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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24035461">Itokiri [[Discontinued]]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misen/pseuds/Misen'>Misen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Diabolik Lovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood Drinking, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Imprisonment, Massacre, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Swordfighting, some explicit content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:21:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>59,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24035461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misen/pseuds/Misen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitsuna Itomori, an enigmatic and reclusive student at Nishikami Academy, finds herself in the hands of the powerful and revenge-seeking Tsukinami brothers. However, she may have more in common with them than they realize.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tsukinami Carla/Itomori Mitsuna, Tsukinami Carla/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Portrait</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First and foremost, my apologies for deleting this fic! Due to personal issues, I took the entire story down, but reconsidered! I went through and edited the chapters but everything else is roughly the same!</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Since the day I was born, I was accustomed to a life where I did not know what it was like to want for something. Anything I could have desired would appear before me. In the warm embrace of my family, I felt no such thing as sadness. I lived peacefully, thoughtlessly. I had no means of understanding a thing called loneliness. Yet, I discovered soon enough that life is stained with impermanence. In the absence of things once taken for granted, the only emotion that can remain is anger. And my childish soul was devoured by a monster called rage.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>… [Memoir belonging to ___]</b>
</p>
<hr/><p> <span>In a black forest, nestled somewhere between the realm of humans and that of myth-like demons, was a house. Not so terribly tall as to surpass the roof of the forest, yet formidable in its own right, the house was rooted in a meadow only a short walk from a river where daisies were known to bloom. The house’s exterior was comprised entirely of slate-gray bricks, with large ornate windows arranged to provide perfect symmetry with the large, oak door acting as the point of focus in the entryway. No one was quite sure when the house had been built, but in the years since its recent vacancy, ivy climbed each brick and the house was gradually swallowed by the black forest. </span></p><p>
  <span>The house was not always empty. It had been there for some odd centuries, always home to one certain family. They were all rather withdrawn, dark-haired people with little desire to become entangled in the business of societal matters. The men of the house were stoic and steadfast in their traditions and principles, outwardly devoid of all emotional sensibility. The women followed in tow, silently embracing the lifestyle of recluses and became pale like their husbands, spending their days inside the house. It was true that, up until a few years ago, they had very little to do with what existed outside of their estate. The children that were reared there simply played in the meadow, or ventured about the forest, their only company being one another. The men and women might’ve gone into the nearby town, shortly before dusk to purchase whatever they couldn’t provide by themselves but such visits were few and far between.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They weren’t disliked by the townspeople and despite their cold appearances, were kind in their own way. There was nothing inherently unsettling about them, and though no one personally knew them or even understood them, their existence could be felt. And then, in the silence of a single morning, the entire family was gone without a word. All their earthly possessions remained in the house, only to serve as a resting place for dust. Word traveled, as is only natural, and many people theorized as to what caused the sudden disappearance of such an enigmatic presence that resided amongst the owners of that house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was for that reason that the house became incredibly enticing to the likes of graverobbers, squatters and those cut from a similar cloth. There was some talk of expensive golden heirlooms, fine jewelry crafted from silver and precious gemstones. Yet, the chatter remained idle. Perhaps it was fear that prevented anyone from actually exploring the house, much less taking the belongings of the family that had lived there. And yet, some were far too brazen to have such reservations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A group of men, about five in total, had gone searching for the house one night. They varied in age, the youngest of the group being only 16. Each man had their reasons for wanting to find the house, and moreover, each was motivated to take something valuable from it. Their search began in the mid-afternoon but the house itself eluded them until the sun had set and the sky had become void of all light. On that night, not the moon or even a single star appeared. Though, such a thing had gone unnoticed. Flashlights in hand, the men finally came to the promised clearing and there it stood, the infamous house. There was some eagerness in their hearts as they approached it, though that eagerness soon gave way to apprehension as they fully took in the house’s lifelessness. Although ivy and wildflowers grew around it, the house seemed entirely barren and almost corpse-like. The gray bricks had shifted out of place ever so slightly and the windows had fogged over, web-like fractures leaving the glass panes precariously suspended in their frames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the coldness that seemed to emanate from the house, the men pried open the front door and allowed a cloud of musty air to escape into the night sky. A foul odor spilled into their lungs, nearly choking the oldest of the group, Andrei, who had been standing in front of the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An animal… must’ve died inside…” he spoke in a meekly reassuring tone, though it couldn’t be said whether he was trying to comfort the other men or himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With flashlights to pierce the darkness within the house, the men entered. Everything was covered in a gray film of dust, the small decorative tables in the foyer to the banisters of the stairs that wrapped around the room. There was nothing of extraordinary value that caught their attention upon first glance, other than a candelabra chandelier that hung perfectly centered in the foyer. However, there were a number of faded splatters on the walls and marble flooring. Though the color had long since leached out of whatever made the stain, it wasn’t very difficult to imagine what the splatters were. The men had halted not far from the doorway, their breaths hitched all coming to the realization of what might have taken place in the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t… fret over it. Whatever happened here is… in the past, no?” one of the men chirped, his voice not much louder than a whisper and his stout body trying to steady its tremors. “Remember why we came to this place, men.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men nodded in agreement, though hesitant to pick their feet up. They stood in silence for some time before greed finally moved them along. They scoured the first floor- the sitting room, den, kitchen, dining room, and study- yet found nothing more than some antique furniture that was far too drenched in the stench of the house to ever be sold. The china in the dining room and kitchen was stacked neatly in displays with each plate, bowl, and cup broken into clean little pieces. One of the men thought it might’ve been deliberate, but couldn’t think of any reasoning behind doing such a tedious thing. He pulled the drawers open, searching for cutlery. A spoon, a fork, something that could be pawned off. But the drawers only housed cobwebs and rats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for the books in the study, or what books remained, there were only children’s fairytale books with each page scribbled on in black ink rendering them entirely useless. After a fruitless search, the men gathered back in the foyer and looked to the staircases. The first to start the expedition upstairs was the stout man, Paul, who had spoken up earlier. He held his flashlight firmly in his hand, going up each step with a deep exhale. The other four stood at the base of the stairs, watching him struggle to ascend. And then, when he had gone halfway and gained a clear view of the upstairs rooms, he stopped abruptly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blood…” he mumbled, no longer able to hold his flashlight still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spilled from end to end of the hallway, smeared over broken doors missing their knobs, was blood. Dried and oxidized, leaving only unmistakeable black shadows, was blood. Over children’s rocking horses that had been dismantled beyond repair, over canopy beds and torn clothing. Not a single body in sight, only the remnants of a heartless slaughter left behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come back down!” Andrei hissed, grabbing the other men by the shoulders to keep them from going up the stairs.. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s everywhere… how many people…?” Paul uttered in a daze, stepping backward without much regard to the narrowness of the steps beneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful!” the youngest man, Alex, shouted, leaping ahead of the group and managing to catch the man before he tumbled backward entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both men hurried down the steps, with almost every one creaking as they descended and met back with the rest of the men. They talked amongst themselves, trying to calm Paul down. But, one of the men began to stray from the group, taking more interest in the staircase than steadying someone’s nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” he mumbled to himself, going to the wall that lined the staircase. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Andrei asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When they were on the stairs earlier… a few of the steps made a different sound than the others… Almost as if…” the man’s voice slipped off into a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if...?” Alex echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man knocked on the wall three times, an empty sound reverberating off of it each time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hollow here…” he stated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men collectively hummed in confusion, rising to their feet and coming to examine the wall of the stairs with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, right here… The wall is different as well. See how it’s a bit raised?” the man spoke, running his fingers over the grooves of the molding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a small square of the wall no more than 3 square feet lined in a golden molding, that had nothing behind it. And with some force, they were able to pry the square off cleanly. And to their surprise, what was hidden behind the wall was another staircase, going down beneath the foundation of the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going down,” the man spoke, already going through the small space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! Who knows what the hell could be down there?!” Andrei shouted after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly!” the man shouted back, his voice becoming more and more distant with every step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other four stood dumbfounded, listening as the man’s footsteps gradually faded from earshot. For a moment, they wondered what rested beneath the house. Was it as gruesome as what awaited them on the second floor? A long corridor, soaked with blood from wall to wall? Perhaps the corpses of the family who once lived in the house were hidden down there, rotting all this time? What might they look like by this point? Skeletons or was there still flesh that clung to their bones?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found something!” the man’s voice suddenly erupted out from the darkness gleefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And without much thought, the remaining four quickly bounded down the steps and followed him down into the dark expanse before them. Using their flashlights to guide the way, they found that what was beneath the house was nothing like they had imagined. Pristine white walls with candle sconces mounted every few feet and a clean, albeit dusty floor beneath their feet. They were entirely too relieved by the somewhat calming atmosphere to realize that the way out had been closed off behind them. And five pairs of footsteps rejoined the man who ventured down alone. When they reached him, they found him standing above a large rectangular object propped up against the wall with a tarp over it. And though the corridor continued to stretch on, it seemed there was nothing other than the object before them as far as the eye could see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it?” Andrei asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It could be a painting. Old houses like this probably have a bunch of priceless paintings from dead artists,” the man said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The painting’s owners are certainly dead…” Paul muttered under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush up, let’s see it,” Alex said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And at his word, the oldest man pulled the tarp off the painting. Immediately, their hearts sank. The painting was in a glittering gold frame, but the canvas itself…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been destroyed…” Paul said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One could assume that the painting had, at one point, been a family portrait. There were four people within the portrait, but three of the faces had been viciously gouged out. The face of the father, the mother, and a young boy. The only face remaining whole was that of a young girl, no older than 13. Her black hair was styled neatly with white and gold ribbons. She wore a red dress, with numerous ruffles to show some sense of nobility. And her eyes, her eyes were perhaps the most fascinating thing about her. They were the color of amber and even through the painting, seemed to reflect the flashlight’s illumination. And the right eye was a bit…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a beautiful girl…” Alex spoke, his voice suddenly weakened at the sight of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder… what happened to her after this…” Paul added solemnly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May God have mercy on her… if she survived whatever happened here,” Andrei said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How tragic…” another man spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, each of the five men came to attention, a sharp tension piercing between their shoulder blades. The voice had just spoken to them… was a stranger’s. They all turned, seeing a sixth man had joined them. From head to toe, he was veiled by a hooded cloak with only his mouth visible. The men resisted all urges to scream and simply stood facing the stranger with their mouths agape and fists clenched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s tragic, no? You know it wasn’t that long ago actually, that the family that lived here was massacred. Three generations wiped out in a single day just about four years ago. It’s tragic how dilapidated the house has become in such a short time, isn’t it?” the stranger spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the hell are you?!” Andrei snarled at him, though he could swear he could hear his own heart beating relentlessly in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who the hell are you? You’re the ones trespassing, are you not? Tell me, you came here intending to steal something precious, right?” he snapped back, causing the men to fall silent. “Well, I hate to spoil your fun, but there is nothing worth pawning in this house. All the valuables here were destroyed along with the people who lived here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, no one uttered a single word. What was there to say? How would they proceed, the men wondered. After all, it couldn’t be so simple to pass by the strange man who suddenly appeared and cornered them in the corridor beneath the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all seem… a bit disturbed,” the stranger laughed. “Truly, it’s not so bad. Maybe you’re afraid because you don’t know what happened here in this house. So, why don’t I bestow the gift of knowledge onto you? You see, in total, the family who lived here was forty people. 6 grandparents, 14 parents who collectively had 20 children. And every single one of them was torn to shreds in the halls of this house, well… almost every single one,” he explained, gesturing to the girl in the painting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger took a deep breath before his lips curled up and parted to reveal a toothy grin. Where his canines should have been were two large fangs, properly glinting like daggers in the dim light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you see, the only thing capable of such mass murder was no human. Anyone care to guess what killed them?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that black forest, nestled somewhere between the human realm and the rumored realm of demons, the screams of men could not reach another living soul. Every sound was swallowed at once by the trees and the dark house, filled with shadows, became nothing more than a crypt. For some reason, the words of the stranger lingered in the minds of the men until they drew their last agonizing breaths… And the eyes of that beautiful young girl in the portrait were the last thing to cross their minds before their souls departed from the cruel world they lived in, never to return.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mitsuna Itomori, along with having an enigmatic reputation among her peers at Nishikami Senior Academy, has a routine. But on the night of a special lunar eclipse, someone arrives to disturb the monotony.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>In a single day, my world that didn’t know pain had been irreparably overturned. The carousel of agony was set in motion and with each revolution, life became more and more insufferable. Forced to abandon my childhood home, what remained of my family, I destroyed any belongings I couldn’t take along with me. Despite it all, my obtrusive pride couldn’t bear the thought of our precious possessions in the hands of someone else. It was only natural that if I could no longer have these things, then no one else should.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>… [Memoir belonging to ___ ]</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When I open my eyes, the sunny afternoon I dozed off to has become dim and drenched. From the window in my alcove in the library, I can see the school courtyard gather puddles. On a clear night, the city in the distance is purely visible but the downpour smears everything until the neon lights have melted into the black streets. The sound of the rain, though heavy, is peaceful and I allow it to be, resting my head on the desk I fell asleep at. The window panes fog up at their frames and I sigh, my eyes fluttering shut once more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like the rain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Voices mingle in the courtyard and I stretch my arms out, leaning back in my desk chair and allowing my spine to decompress. My back pops lightly and the drowsiness that pervaded my senses is washed away with the raindrops. I begin gathering up my belongings, the stray books to my left and the stack of paperwork that is likely to blame for me falling asleep here. Neatly, I arrange the paperwork and slip it into a large yellow envelope. The envelope goes into my bag and I take the books on the desk that I had picked up to read between bursts of motivation for actually completing the paperwork I was given to do. As the school bell rings, I return all but two books to their rightful places on the library shelves. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Measure for Measure </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hamlet</span>
  </em>
  <span> join the envelope in my bag and the school bell rings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now my day truly begins.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s unlike me to arrive at school during the day. It’s unlike me to do much of anything during the day. After all, as a night course student at Nishikami Academy, it’s part and parcel to live the life of an extreme night owl. Waking up as the sun sets and the moon rises with you, going to sleep before dawn breaks is routine to me. Of course, my life wasn’t always like this and some nights I miss spending my days beneath the warmth of the sun. But, then again, I’m adaptable and I’ve always been more energized at night anyway. However, it was upon special request of my headmaster that I come to school early to fill out maintenance orders for the music room, school theater, and library respectively. So, bumbling along in a groggy state, I noted what was broken, what was outdated, and what could be added. Then, I organized my thoughts in an absurdly tedious clerical chart that, if given the opportunity, I would have burned on sight. It’s no wonder I fell asleep trying to fill the damn thing out and at times I wonder if a student like me should really be trusted with work like this. However, as I leave the library and join other students in the hallway, I chuckle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m suitable for this kind of work.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A yawn spills from my lips, though I try to muffle it with my hand. A heaviness looms over me and I chalk it up to still being tired. I’m not a particularly spirited person, but even I thought I would be more excited. After all, today is not a usual day for me. I stop at one of the vending machines in the hallway- which I put in an order for last term for this specific occasion. Students and even some of my classmates pass by, some wave at me and I wave back. I put a few coins into the machine and make my selection, EXEC canned vanilla espresso, and mindlessly listen to their chatter. Discussions about the weather, about who is dating who, trivial things. And it’s true, today is not a usual day. But they have no way of knowing why. Despite my sleepiness, I don’t smile even though I’m rather happy. That would be unlike me. That would bring about questions I don’t care to be asked. It’s better if they laugh without knowing anything. That they don’t notice the bats missing from every dark corner of this school, bats that usually appear wherever I go and watch me, every second of every night. They have no way of knowing how out of the ordinary today is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I giggle, just for a moment, as my coffee arrives at the vending port. Admittedly, this was a purchase that didn’t really need to be made and I would be lying if I said EXEC wasn’t my favorite brand. But, on unusual days like this, I can’t help but feel the need to celebrate just a little. I crack open the can, careful not to ruin the manicure I got done before coming to school, and take a sip. I sigh softly and keep my straight face. The bitter-sweet and rich flavor permeates my taste buds and I could fly over the moon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There are no bats today</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I continue walking down the hall toward my homeroom class and examine my nails. I haven’t been out to do my nails in quite some time, much less a gel manicure. It was the only way I could pry myself out of bed so early to take a train from the house into town. I got a peachy color, with little charms set into the gel for an accent. It feels beneath me to like things that sparkle but I marvel each time the crescent moon charm on my ring fingernail catches the light. I take another sip of my coffee and wave to another classmate as they pass me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Itomori-senpai!” a voice calls from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I press forward, with no intention to actually respond. Waving is what most of my daily interactions consist of. I’ve gone to this school long enough for people to expect me to be withdrawn from them. That isn’t to say I think too highly of myself, rather it’s too much of a hassle to talk with the people here. I have nothing to say they would enjoy hearing and likewise. It’s a balance that most understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Itomori-senpai!” the voice calls again, this time grabbing me by my upper arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unusual, indeed.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I look back over my shoulder, finding a first-year gazing down at me. Truthfully, I’ve never seen her before and thinking she is a first-year is just an assumption. However, the naive glimmer in her eyes doesn’t do much to change my mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My voice is a bit lower than I intended, but it dispirits her enough to let go of me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I… I wanted to ask you something,” she stutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s taller than me, even though I’m wearing heeled shoes, but when she speaks she gets smaller.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on then,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” she nods. “You see… you have a pretty good reputation here, especially when it comes to your grades and, well, I really admire that. I wish I was more like that. A lot of girls in my year look up to you, too, because of how good you are with studying. So… I was hoping, if you didn’t mind, that you might consider being my tutor?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes narrow and she shrinks back, bowing her head. I’m told I can be somewhat scary, even when I don’t intend to be. I try to relax my expression, in whatever I can, so that my words don’t strike her as cruel. It’s no secret I don’t like being bothered, but… it’s unlike me to go out of my way to be cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no interest in tutoring,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks up at me, her mouth agape and I sigh. Sheepishly, she bows and turns from me. She hurries back down the hall and I shake my head. By now… I would’ve thought people would leave me alone. It’s all because of the silly system that governs the student body. If it didn’t benefit me in some way, I would’ve resigned from it in my first year here at Nishikami. This school is almost entirely funded by scholarships because of its identity as a “genius farm”.  Every alumni to this school ends up in some highly-esteemed career. Innovative doctors, scientists, artists, politicians, and the like are seen as superhumans if Nishikami Senior Academy is listed on their resume. And the superhuman among superhumans are those that receive status as Nishikami’s Tensai. In other words, it’s a system that picks out the three top students of the entire academy based on a variety of prerequisites, most importantly GPA. The three students chosen are known as the Golden, Silver, and Bronze Geniuses respective to their placement. For the past two years, I’ve held the title of Silver Genius and wore a silver badge on my lapel as if the title weren’t vainglorious enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The title also brought along a host of issues. Students attempting to incite rivalries with me, to have me tutor them, even offering to pay me to do their work for them. The most I’ve done is shared notes with my classmates, those I know by name and who don’t treat me as a human encyclopedia. Who respect my wishes and don’t invite me into their idle chats about which teacher is the cutest, those students who don’t even ask to borrow my notes in the first place. There’s something I find pleasant about helping people who would continue to work in silence, even if they are struggling, rather than asking for assistance. I have no interest in people who try to flatter me into making their lives easier. I especially detest the idea of spending any length of time with a complete stranger, trying to explain parabolas. Financially compensated or not. The bell rings and so brings an end to my mental rampage at the thought of having to do such a thing as tutor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn on my heel and walk forward, but immediately crash into the chest of someone else who I have never seen before. I clutch my can of coffee and look up at the man who stands before me, wearing what could pass as a heavily personalized Nishikami uniform. He looks down at me through teal glasses, the left lense somehow disappearing beneath a black eyepatch. A tail is hooked on his belt loop and I find myself staring at it far longer than I should, wondering if it’s real or fake. He chuckles and I bow lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon me,” I say and step past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I get about five feet away from him before he calls out to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, just a moment! Could you point me towards the headmaster’s office by chance?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look back at him and he smirks. I lift my hand and suddenly, my head throbs. I shut my eyes and swallow the coffee-flavored saliva in my mouth. When I open my eyes, the hallway is stained with red light pouring in from the windows. I glance outside and as soon as I do, the red light disappears and all I can see is the pure white light of the full moon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright over there?” he asks me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod slowly and point down the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to the end of the hall and make a left. His office is right by a display case,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clicks his tongue and shoots me a boyish grin before saying, “Thanks, the rain really dulls my sense of direction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill settles on the nape of my neck and just like that, he’s gone down the hall. I stand for a moment, in the middle of the now-emptied hallway. I look outside again, at the moon once more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That red light</span>
  </em>
  <span>… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too unusual.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Headaches aren’t uncommon for me. I had more severe ones frequently when I was a child. It was this sharp pain on the right side of my skull, just behind my eye socket it felt like. And I would get a similar chill down my neck and recoil. Now and then, I would see something strange. Not necessarily a phantom red light, but a scene like a memory drowned in mist. A memory of something that hadn’t happened, or hadn’t happened yet. Those kinds of things became more spare the older I got, fading into oblivion more recently. I lift my dented can to my lips and guzzle it down. I hurry along to class and toss the can into the recycling receptacle that I also ordered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I make it to my homeroom before the final bell rings and take my seat by the window, which is entirely cliche but provides a nice distraction from Shakespearan droning. As I sit, I hear the girls I sit by talk about the lunar eclipse that was reported on the news a few days ago. And I truly listen, because unlike them, I have a vested interest in whatever happens to that goddamn satellite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s supposed to happen tonight!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so excited! I heard it’s supposed to be a Super Blood Moon! It should last about two whole hours!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two hours</span>
  </em>
  <span>… While rare, it isn’t very long at all. At least… not here. The teacher enters and the chatter is cut short. We stand, say “good evening” and bow as a class before sitting down once more. The teacher writes the date on the board and instructs us to open to where we left off in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Measure for Measure</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I pull out the book and thumb through the pages until finding the section I tagged with a neon yellow sticker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright… Itomori Mitsuna, our very own Genius of class 3-3, go ahead and recite the quote we highlighted last time in English, please,” the teacher instructs me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh and stand up, clearing my throat and waiting for the whispers of my classmates to fall silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Be absolute for death, either death or life shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I lose a thing that none but fools would keep’,” I read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sit and the class breaks into a discussion over how to interpret the line. My Tensai status has little to do with me always reading the quotes from the literature we read in this class and more to do with the fact that I’m the only one in class who can speak English fluently. That is one of the few things that my classmates know about me. I was born in Japan but I grew up in Romania for most of my life. Romanian is actually my mother tongue but my English is equally as developed, albeit with a slightly thick accent. In fact, my Japanese being so poor at first when I returned here was one of the reasons I didn’t make more of an effort to talk with my classmates. But, of course, it wasn’t the main reason. Today marks the first night in years that I can truly do whatever I want. Because I am not being supervised right now. The moon hangs in the sky, suspended behind a veil of rain, but I can see clearly. It’s waning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That guy’s voice plays back in my mind and his words dance on the tip of my tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With the lunar eclipse in 3 days, I’ll be leaving town for a while. Be good. I can trust you wouldn’t do anything careless… right?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I could reel with laughter just thinking about it. The absolute euphoria that consumed me in that moment, it was like the warden leaving the prisoners and turning off the security cameras. All the things I could do cycled through my mind with the impetus of lightning. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Careless… I could never be.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, it is true that I could have done something rash. I could run away and spread my scent the entire trek long. I could destroy everything of his and do something as irrational as would be justified in my case. I could go mad with the promised autonomy this lunar eclipse brings. But, doing such a thing is unlike me. For all the trouble the silver pin on my blazer has brought me, it isn’t just a decoration. I can tell how the moon affects him and if the lunar eclipse is enough to make him risk leaving me unattended indefinitely, then it’s nothing to be taken lightly. So, carefully, I adhered to my usual routine as much as possible today. I did little things, like getting my nails done and taking on a project from the headmaster so early in the day because bats watching me or not, I know he has ways of keeping an eye on me regardless. It would be unlike me… to seem like anything less than domesticated by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moreover, with what the lunar eclipse makes cower and flee, I’m morbidly curious to see what is brought out that would have scared him into turning tail and running off without me. I faintly hear the teacher say something about a wolf and figure they misunderstood something that I can’t bother correcting. I watch as with every passing second, slices of the moon vanish and the rain picks up. Lightning rips the night sky and a girl in my class yelps. Thunder follows soon after and I can feel the rumble reach my core. The moon is about half-full when my head throbs again. This time, the pounding is enough to make me nauseous. Acidic coffee rises in my throat and I raise my hand immediately. The teacher calls my name, but I can’t answer. I gag and cover my mouth. He gets the message and excuses me to the bathroom. I rush out of the classroom and make a beeline for the bathroom, the clack of my heels echoing throughout the hallway and amping my headache up to a bonafide migraine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I throw open a stall door and collapse on the bathroom floor, emptying my stomach into the toilet bowl. Even when nothing remains, I continue retching. My fingers prod the right side of my face, tangling in the bangs I grew out to cover my right eye. I gasp for breath and press against the orbital bone. My father would do this when I would come to him crying in pain as a kid, he would say it would scare the pain into behaving if the eye thought it would be removed. I apply pressure to my right eye, trying to threaten it just like he did. And as if my eye is a separate entity to my body, the agony I feel melts away as if it knows how much I would like to gouge it out. I cough and spit into the toilet in an attempt to alleviate the horrible taste in my mouth. Yes, right now, I would like to take out the source of whatever this affliction is. I sigh and lean against the wall of the stall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is another thing about me no one knows, in addition to the numerous other secrets I keep. The case of my right eye… why I grew my hair out to cover it is something I hear people gossip about. Some think my eye is missing, others think I’m just a shut-in who can’t trim her bangs. It’s laughable, their assumptions, because the truth is so much more odd. My entire life… is quite odd, even down to my thoughts. I think I must be going mad… because of all these once strange things have become monotonous, as everyday as the sun rising and setting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How laughable</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I think grimly as I sit on the cold tile of the bathroom floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Itomori-senpai…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl from before materializes outside of the stall. I hastily flush the toilet and stand up, walking past her to the sink. She hums and looks at my reflection in the mirror. I rinse my mouth with water and wait for her to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sick?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tone is tender, even sincere. She looks at me with doe-like eyes and I feel nauseous once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” I tell her firmly, spitting water into the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all this time, I do not need to be taken care of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t push yourself. I have some medicine in my locker if you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please get to what you followed me in here for and stop patronizing me,” I cut her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She whimpers, which only draws a sigh from me. I rinse my mouth out again and gargle the water to soothe the soreness in my throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” she begins. “Please reconsider tutoring me. I… I’m failing all of my classes so far and at this rate, I won’t be admitted to the next term. My parents paid a lot of money for me to come here, money we really don’t have and if I fail… if I fail then…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice trails off and suddenly, she’s not looking at me. She looks through me, terror creasing her face as she sees all the worst case scenarios her mind has imagined. I spit again and shut the water off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her parents, huh?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name?” I ask her, trying to soften my voice the best I can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh…? Ah! Samezuka Ako! Ako is okay, though!” she answers eagerly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Samezuka-san…” I start. “What makes you so certain that you would pass just because I tutor you? I’m not a teacher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stumbles on her words for a moment, searching for the answer to my question that I now realize she never asked herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, because the teachers aren’t like you! I mean, you are the Silver Genius! Even my parents have heard of you!” she says. “If I get tutored by you, I’m sure to pass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head and my eyes fall to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basing your success on someone else is why you’ll fail no matter what I do,” I mutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already told you, I’m not going to tutor you, Samezuka-san. After all, you were smart enough to pass this school’s entrance exam in the first place. If you can do that, applying yourself to your classes should be no different,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks a few times, her lips parting as if she wants to say something. But she doesn’t speak. Her eyes squeeze shut and I see a tear spill down her cheek. Inside, I am panicking. I don’t know why she’s crying, much less how to make her stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could never understand,” her voice breaks. “You were born gifted. You haven’t had to work as hard as me. You could never understand how hard it is for me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I step back as her voice rises and she looks at me with piercing eyes. Her desperation… is absolutely puzzling to me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Born gifted… How hard it is for </span>
  </em>
  <span>her</span>
  <em>
    <span>?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I look like someone who has everything to you?” I ask her with no regard to how my tone sounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears roll down her face and she nods fervently, biting her lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you covet my place that badly, then here,” I say and I unfasten my Tensai pin, tossing it towards her. It lands at her feet with a metallic ring. “Take it, I don’t care about it. You’re right… I didn’t have to try for it. I don’t study more than anyone else, I don’t do anything special. I don’t do cram school, I don’t pray. If that makes me gifted, so be it. It means nothing to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasps quietly, her eyes widening. Perhaps what I say angers her but now I am irritated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on, take the stupid thing. I don’t want it. If your most troublesome worry is a low mark on a test, I would gladly trade places with you. I would gladly take disappointing my parents over having no parents to disappoint!” I say, nearly reaching the top of my voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t see the blade at first, or even register that it is coming towards me. When she lunges at me, I raise my arm defensively. It isn’t until I feel my palm being sliced open that I realize what she has just done. She wails, staggering away from me as I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a yelp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… you don’t understand…” she speaks in a dazed tone before dropping the knife and running out of the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hear her footsteps grow farther away and it isn’t until they fade completely that I let myself cry. I turn my palm over and look at it. The cut isn’t so deep that I would need stitches, but… it’s enough to make me dizzy. My hand trembles and I have to hold my own wrist to keep it from moving too erratically. I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath, I try to resist every urge to chase her down with the knife she has now stained with my blood. I open my eyes and quickly pull my handkerchief from my breast pocket and press it to the cut, which stings far beyond what I was prepared for. By now, pain should be nothing for me, but my breath hitches and I sniffle pathetically. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I keep applying pressure and look down at the scene before me. The knife lays at my feet, along with her fate. I could tell the headmaster, get her expelled or worse. But… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She is right, I don’t understand her. She didn’t strike me as dangerous, even though her persistence bordered on creepy. When she lunged at me, I’m not sure she even knew why she was doing it. Then again, why would she have a knife in the first place if she didn’t intend to use it? I huff and pick the knife up off the floor. It’s a simple switchblade, no longer than three inches. She could keep it on her for self-defense, especially if she is in the night course here. Commuting late at night could be dangerous for her. Then again, she still used the knife on me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to understand her</span>
  </em>
  <span>… Her issues will never be mine, I will never empathize with her plights and she will never know the depths of mine. We are entirely too different to understand one another. So the only question that remains is… what will I do with her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My hand is pulsating and I can feel my blood soaking through the handkerchief far too fast for me to think much longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heat of the moment,” I whisper to myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I click the blade back into its housing and slip it into my breast pocket before picking up my pin and rushing out of the bathroom before I have time to leave a notable pool of blood. I’m not a person devoid of emotion. My life would be far easier if I was. But, for that reason, I won’t condemn her. A superficial, yet surprisingly painful, cut on my palm will do little more to me than leave a scar. If I were to tell anybody about it, I would destroy her life. Uproot her entirely, make her despair fester until there was nothing left of her. I won’t tutor her but I will spare her that. At least for now… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I arrive at the infirmary, a sign is hanging on the door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor is out, please return again later.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I enter regardless, sliding the door open with my foot. The smell of rubbing alcohol and cotton is intense, but I stalk over to the medicine cabinet and take out what I need. This isn’t my first time patching myself up and it certainly won’t be the last. I line up antibiotic ointment, cotton swabs and pads, gauze and safety pins at the edge of the sink. I turn on the faucet and reach in to start washing my hands and maybe it’s paranoia but I feel someone staring at me. I pause and look around, but find no one else in the infirmary with me. Still, that feeling weighs on me and I look out the window. Part of me expects to see a bat, but it’s something entirely different. A wolf… on the school’s lawn in the pouring rain is staring at me. My lips part but no sound comes out. I’m almost too frightened to blink, but when I do, the wolf howls. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a familiar!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t have time to react or think of my next move because suddenly, I hear a noise behind me and I startle. I spin on my heel and blocking the infirmary door is a man that easily towers over me. He wears the Nishikami uniform, along with a long black scarf that covers the bottom half of his face. Though he’s slim, his broad shoulders make my chest tighten and I know, without a doubt, he is what the lunar eclipse has set free. I gulp and he looks down at me with sharp golden eyes. He locks onto my hand and I now realize this is the absolute worst time to have an open wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” he asks in a voice as deep as thunder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wait, thinking there must be some threat coming my way. But he just stands there, waiting for me to answer. I exhale and speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay. I came here to dress it,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say anything for a moment and I look out the window briefly. The wolf has vanished, most likely the moment that the strange guy appeared in the room. I suddenly remember that tacky guy I bumped into in the hallway, with the tail accessory… Perhaps the two are connected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on, then,” the man before me speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod and uneasily, turn my back to him. There is a mirror at the sink so I make sure to keep an eye on him with my peripheral vision. Trying to wash my hands while doing so is no easy task, but I refuse to show any fear of him on my face. I’ve had enough practice to last a lifetime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a new student here? I haven’t seen you before,” I tread, shutting off the faucet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he answers flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn towards him, reaching my hand back and grabbing the cotton swabs and ointment from the side of the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see, do you mind if I ask what your name is?” I question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head and answers, “My name is Tsukinami Carla.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod and say, “I’m Itomori Mitsuna. I’m a third year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brow arches and I’m worried pleasantries are only going to worsen this situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re quite small,” he comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice so totally lacks any discernible emotion that I scoff in response, wincing as I apply the ointment to the cut. He chuckles and walks towards me. I would back away but I’m already leaning against the sink and there’s no further to go. He stands directly before me, close enough that I can smell his long white hair. He looks down at my cut and places my hand in his gloved palm. I can’t tell if his hands are cold… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am curious about something,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pull my hand away from him and quickly start wrapping it up with the gauze. I look up at him and nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been a vampire’s plaything?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes every ounce of strength I have to keep the look of pure horror from reaching my face. I fasten the bandage with a safety pin and sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Four years. Though, I can only assume that era is about to come to a close,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moonlight that had been illuminating the infirmary goes out all at once, leaving this Tsukinami Carla and I suspended in darkness. The rain has stopped somewhere in the midst of our exchange and I feel dizzy. Then, that red light from earlier fills the room. Only, it isn’t my imagination this time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The lunar eclipse has begun and with it, my lifeless days will be overturned once more.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Editing this chapter made me realize just how much has changed in a few short chapters!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. As You Were</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Childhood memories resurface as Mitsuna tries to navigate through the Tsukinami brothers' schemes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>I thought about returning home countless times. Thousands of starry nights passed and I grew more restless with each turn of the moon. Yet, I was bound by the inescapable fate that had been written for me. If this is my role, if this is what I must do, then I should grit my teeth and bear it. Tethered to this dark destiny, I overwrote the depths of my nature and fulfilled my role wholeheartedly. Though, I asked myself tirelessly what awaited me at the end of this bloody, tear-stained road.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>… [Memoir belonging to ____ ]</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Like a light switch being flipped, the red glow vanishes at the ring of the school bell. Carla takes a step back from me, leaving a window just slightly wide enough for me to fly out of. And I do. I bow my head, clear my throat, and excuse myself. Almost too easily, I walk towards the infirmary door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>10 footsteps away, 6 footsteps, 2…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then, as the dread forming a ring of sweat around my collar could foretell, his thunderous voice calls out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a moment,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look over my shoulder so as to not fully face him. He extends his hand out towards me, and glimmering in his palm is my Tensai pin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dropped this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bite my tongue to divert the sigh from passing my lips. I walk towards him with heavy steps, my heels clicking, and delicately take back my pin with a short “thank you”. Then, hurried clacking and all, I scurry out of the infirmary like a rat and escape into the sanctuary of the hallway. A few students pass by, either heading to the bathroom or to meet their friends from other classes and I breathe easier because there are witnesses. I could be miscalculating. Perhaps this Tsukinami Carla cares nothing about the sheer veil that separates the world of demons and humans. He may have no issue feeding on me as my peers’ faces twist up in horror. I stop myself, breathing in and out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Surely if he wanted to upend everything, he would have done so already.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I cease my panicking and squeeze my throbbing hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There is no need,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I tell myself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no use in fretting over what will happen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When I reach my homeroom, the teacher, Mr. Fujioka, is standing at the door with a perturbed look on his face. In his white-knuckled hands is my bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Itomori-san, are you okay?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod slowly, stepping forward with the intention of taking my bag and returning to my seat, but he blocks me with his hand. I look up at him, lifting my brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah… Headmaster Yoshimura called for you while you were out. He said it was urgent,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I huff and shake my head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>More paperwork most likely, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I think. Fujioka places my bag strap on my shoulder, his eyes narrowing on my bandaged hand. I have an urge to conceal my hand, but I stop myself. It would only draw out questions that I would rather not answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said to take your things with you so hopefully, it’s nothing too severe. And… eh, Tetsuro-kun,” Fujioka cranes his neck back and calls into the classroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I idle for a moment, unease gripping my heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No use, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I remind myself. As my classmate bounds up to the doorway, hands shoved in pockets and shoulders rolled back, I look down the hallway that seems to be growing ever longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you walk with Itomori-san? Just to make sure she doesn’t get sick again,” Fujioka says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That isn’t necessary,” I protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” Tetsuro says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come straight back after you’re done,” Fujioka instructs before walking back into the classroom to hush my rowdy classmates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tetsuro nods and we step out into the hall, which has cleared up at the sound of another bell ring. Tetsuro looks down at me, tilting his head to the side and rubbing the back of his neck. I clear my throat and begin walking with him following close behind. My bag swings awkwardly off my shoulder and, moreover, my body feels unsteady. Each step I take is so light, I worry that my feet aren’t meeting the floor. It’s a few seconds of this pseudo-levitation before Tetsuro speaks and I’m anchored back to reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you… maybe catch the flu?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pause for a moment, but continue walking with a terse, “It’s possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah… Um… What happened to your hand? It looked fine before you left class,” he ventures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Internally, I’m cursing Samezuka Ako’s name and hoping she made it far, far away from this school. After all, this has to be the most anyone has talked to me in weeks. Not to mention the dreadful atmosphere of the eclipse. Of course, I cannot show any of these thoughts with my expression so blankly, I look down at my hand and fabricate a story that sounds natural and believable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to the infirmary to get some medicine and I knocked over one of the jars. I cut my hand when I was cleaning up, it’s nothing to fret over,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods and sighs with a surprising amount of relief. I narrow my eyes, looking up at him. He catches my eye and grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good. If it were me, I probably would’ve cut a major blood vessel or something… No more baseball,” he chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues snickering to himself and then his laughter skids to a stop when he realizes I haven’t reciprocated. He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck again, and then looks up and down the hallway. The headmaster’s office is just around the corner so I savor the idea that this awkward encounter will come to an end. I’m sure he is trying to be polite, but it isn’t necessary to chit-chat with me. I would be fine walking in silence. Nevertheless, he gets a second wind and starts talking again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to go to our game in a few weeks? The one against Ryoutei Academy?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m required to,” I answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right! I forgot… Of course, I just got used to seeing the Golden Genius there since he’s on the team. I must not have noticed you there, too,” he snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s… right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tetsuro is on the school’s baseball team with… </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s right.</span>
  </em>
  <span> As we round the corner, I turn and raise my hand to Tetsuro’s chest, making him stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go alone from here,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Well, it’s not much farther so… Good luck! And…” his voice drops off and his eyes search around as if searching for the other half of his sentence. “I hope I’ll notice you at the game next time, Mitsuna-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheerful tone is like nails on a chalkboard. It’s only natural that he would act cheerful around me. It would be too obvious if he presented as an obvious threat. I wonder, how was he convinced? Was it a threat or did </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>befriend him? Did they hang out together at practice and the topic of his sudden departure just happen to come up? Did he ask Tetsuro to look after me, to report my activities regularly until he got back? Because they are teammates… I don’t trust a single thing. So, I must act accordingly. I don’t smile, since it wouldn’t be in character for me to do so. I nod and bow my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, for coming this far with me,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can say anything else, I part from him and head off to the headmaster’s office alone. I can hear his footsteps receding as I reach the door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No bats,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but plenty of teammates</span>
  </em>
  <span>. At first, it didn’t make much sense to me why a vampire would want to want to join a baseball team at all. It seemed like a hobby to kill boredom more than anything else. Moreover, what would the celebrated and esteemed Golden Genius of Nishikami Academy stand to gain by running bases every other day? Now, I realize. An army of confidants, of subordinates, of eyes. I scoff and place my good hand on the door handle. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He thinks that I’ll still be under his thumb after tonight… the damn fool,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think. I slide the door open and immediately I’m barraged by bullets of laughter. I freeze, startled by the roaring guffaws of Headmaster Yoshimura and… the tacky guy from earlier!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yoshimura sits at his desk, practically falling out of his chair as he gasps for breath. The tacky guy sits in one of the armchairs opposite him and says something else that sends Yoshimura reeling. In the other armchair, entirely composed like a king on a throne, is Tsukinami Carla. I bite my lip to keep from gulping, lingering in the doorway with all the constitution of a sheet of paper. Yoshimura flicks a tear out of his eye and looks up, locking gazes with me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There she is!” he beams, standing up from the desk. “Come in, come in!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I step inside cautiously, feeling as though I’m entering the lion’s den- or rather, the wolf’s den. The tacky guy looks back and smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We meet again,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would seem so,” I mutter, folding my arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boys, allow me to introduce Nishikami’s very own Silver Genius, Itomori Mitsuna. I see you’ve met each other briefly already. She’s also acting as treasurer for the school so if you see something you think our funds could go towards, she’s the one to talk to. Speaking of which… what’s the status on those forms?” Yoshimura spits out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankly, I would rather not be introduced in such a grandiose way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… I’m nearly done,” I begin. “Ah, I may need a map of the library’s ventilation systems before sending that order through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Consider it done!” Yoshimura says, giving me an eager thumbs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head and sigh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>As scatterbrained as ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, why did you call me here? What’s going on?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I already know it has something to do with the two strange men in the room. If I can safely assume, I may even hazard to think it has something to do with what they want with me. On cue, Carla and the tacky guy stand up, facing me with intensely sharp gazes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Standing before you are our two new transfer students, the Tsukinami brothers. They are returning to Japan from the United Kingdom as members of Nishikami’s International Student Hosting Initiative that we started last semester,” Yoshimura begins, his eyes lighting up as he waits for me to figure out where I fit into this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nishikami’s International Student Hosting Initiative- known “cleverly” as N.I.S.H.I.- is a program that was put in place last semester to make it easier for students transferring into Nishikami to find housing with current students. Yoshimura was absurdly proud of the idea and I spent an hour everyday figuring this project into the school’s budget. However, I also know that international students aren’t randomly assigned to a hosting student. Nishikami’s students have to sign up for hosting positions and there is no way in hell that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> would ever sign our household up to host anyone. Though, I suppose these “transfer students” figured out a way to circumvent that little detail. I contemplate what I should do for a moment. Do I deny it, insist that there was some mistake? Or play along for the time being? I figure, if they’ve come this far, no amount of protest on my part will do a single thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn towards Carla and bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me,” I say softly. “Had I known I would be hosting you two, I would have been more hospitable to you earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I correct my posture, Carla is staring at me with fierce golden eyes. It’s nearly impossible to read what he’s thinking as he looks at me, but I try not to shrivel up before him. His brother on the other hand looks entirely invigorated by my performance. I turn my attention back to Yoshimura, whose face has gone pale. A smile is still plastered on his aged face, but his eyes are dark and solemn. He looks at me like my father looked at a wounded deer from the barrel of his rifle. Instantly, I understand. Yoshimura understands what is happening here. He lifts his hand, gesturing toward the door but his entire arm is trembling. He’s… terrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re all free to go home… and get acquainted with one another. I expect you three to perform exceptionally and exceed this school’s expectations. Especially you, Itomori-san… I’m counting on you,” he says, his eyes like glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can feel my expression soften as the tension between my shoulder blades builds. But I nod and I try to smile for his sake. Scatterbrained though he may be, Yoshimura has looked out for me in a way no one has in years. For that, I am indebted to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do my best,” I tell him blithely, as is only natural for me to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tears well up and he squeezes his eyes shut before Carla or the tacky one can notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we go then, Brother?” he asks Carla.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla nods and quietly grunts, “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Carla in the lead, I follow him out of the Headmaster’s office while the tacky guy brings up the rear. Even without speaking, they move in coordination with one another, each step perfectly synchronized and taken without trepidation. I dig my fingernails into the strap of my bag, in an effort to exorcise the pressure building in my body. I walk sandwiched between them, through the empty hallways where red moonlight shines, and follow Carla up the stairwell. Presumably, we’re heading up to the roof since it would be the most secluded place as of right now. It is entirely human of me, but I begin to think of how much I would rather be sitting in class absent-mindedly staring out the window. Trying to cover up myaccent when reading English, tuning in and out of the gossip buzzing around, drinking my canned coffee. I think of how much I would like to return to my lifeless days as we ascend higher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This ended up being a lot easier than I thought,” the tacky guy snickers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not speak prematurely, Shin. There are still loose ends that must be tended to,” Carla says darkly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Loose ends? I worry that perhaps they don’t want anything with me. Perhaps, the goal was to kill me quietly. I wonder if they’re enemies </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>made, but I figure most likely not. We didn’t spend enough time in the Demon World to make enemies. I still remember that place… always dark and cold, with vampires ready to reach out and snatch me away. It was how I ended up back in Japan, where I hadn’t been since I was born. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Quick and easy travel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he had said. From the portal nearby my house, in the rumored Vampire’s Forest, he dragged me along through the Demon World which is as macabre as it sounds, and we went through another portal that opened up right in Kaminashi. After that…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When we finally make it to the roof, a shadowy figure is waiting there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mertz,” Carla calls out with a dominant tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shadow turns and a cloaked man steps out into the moonlight. The moon itself seems close enough to reach out and grab, glaring down at me. Mertz smiles, his mouth being the only part of his body that is visible, and clasps his hands together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A smooth success. I’d expect no less from you two,” he glimmers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From their respective tones, I would say that Mertz is in a servant position and Carla is the leader of the trio, more or less. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, with the power of the lunar eclipse, securing the woman was no issue. And, of course, with the help of you, a vampire,” Carla says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla’s voice drips with false pleasantry as the word “vampire” falls from his lips. Shin scowls for a moment at Carla’s praise as well, which tells me very clearly where their feelings on vampires lie. It’s just as I thought, they are no vampires. Which begs the question, what kind of demons are they to have a vampire on a leash like this? I stand and wait for some kind of instruction, my nails stabbing through the strap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would seem our agreement worked out nicely,” Shin says to Mertz with less subtlety than his brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I did my best to ensure we could infiltrate this school without raising any suspicions. After all, I am devoted to you,” Mertz replies, his devotion directed at Carla clearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla doesn’t speak for a moment. His eyes are focused on Mertz’s covered face, almost as if he’s seeing straight through the cloak. I can sense some underlying distrust between the three of them, a loose end of sorts. As I come to this conclusion, Carla hums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be leaving now,” he states, cutting his gaze to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wolf’s howl rings out in the cool night air and I feel something press against my temple. Instantly, I drop like a pin. My entire body is numb and even my mind can’t persist in racing. Darkness floods my vision and the world melts away beneath me. My thoughts slow to a stop, the gears in my head stop grinding and all at once, everything becomes silent. Silent… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I hate this silence,</span>
  </em>
  <span> my voice says inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When it’s silent like this, memories leave that place you buried them… Do you remember? A night similar to this one?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, it was a night like this. It had been raining since the early morning. At that point, I was still a skittish child. I feared my own shadow and, more than that, the thunder. Underneath my covers, a pillow wrapped around my head, I tried to drown out the roaring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mitty,” a voice called out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t respond, not until a pillow hit my back. I peeked out of the covers, looking across my childhood bedroom to find my brother’s head poking out of the tent pitched from his blankets. A bright light glowed from underneath the blanket and he waved me over to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mitsuto,” I whimpered, walking across the cold floor to his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, thunder isn’t that scary,” he huffed, scooting over and making space for me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I crawled into the bed beside my brother and he threw his blanket back over our heads. From there, I could see the source of the light. A flashlight clutched in his hand, he aimed it at the page of a leather-bound book. The pages of the book were yellow and crinkled, the ink faded and barely legible. My brother flipped the page and marveled at a number of detailed sketches. Sketches of what looked like monsters to me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you get this?” I asked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Swiped it from Father’s study. Him and that priest guy were looking at it earlier,” he told me nonchalantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My entire body recoiled at the thought of stealing anything from our Father, let alone something that involved the Church. It was common for our family not to interact with anyone from the village nearby, but the Church was the only exception. Back then, I didn’t know why but a certain priest would always visit my Father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mitsuto, you should put that back. Father will be really angry if he finds out you took it,” I told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pssh! Father will get angry with me sooner or later, I might as well read something good,” he argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook my head and I disapproved, but in the end, I stayed with my brother and listened as he read from the pages. The book turned out to be a journal chronicling activities of vampires in our area. What they looked like, how to tell them apart from humans, and various other things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Pure-blooded vampires have large fangs, between 15 and 19 milimeters in length. Humans can be turned into vampires, although the exact process is still relatively unknown. Formerly human vampires are especially dangerous, seeming to have a higher tolerance for sunlight and thus, immersing themselves better with humans,’” Mitsuto read quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shuddered at the thought, causing my brother to look over at me and smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you scared, Mitty?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook my head but it was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a dumb journal. Half of this stuff is bullshit, don’t be a scaredy cat,” he told me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father wouldn’t hang onto something like this if it wasn’t even a little bit true,” I retorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth but firmly clasped it shut. Of course, that fact was indisputable. Our father didn’t involve himself with nonsense, especially not myths. Pointing that out must have soured my brother’s fun because he closed the journal after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better hope vampires aren’t real, they would come after you for sure,” he teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say things like that,” I whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, remember this, Mitty! Your big, strong twin brother would beat the shit out of these weak ass vampires,” he declared firmly. “That book says all I have to do is cut off the head or stab the heart with a silver knife. Piece of cake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I scoffed at the idea but it did reassure me. Even though we were twins, Mitsuto and I could not be more different. He was a troublemaker who feared nothing, not even our father. No matter the situation, he charged in recklessly. In fact, he drove our Father up the wall with his antics. But I could always depend on him. Always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mitty…” he began quietly, clicking off the flashlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is your eye getting any better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My… eye…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A long groan draws from my chest as the memory fades away and reality settles back into my joints. My head throbs and my eye… my right eye is moving around erratically in its socket, making me even more disoriented than I already am. Through my groggy semi-consciousness I reach up to my eye, dig through the bangs, and pinch my finger and thumb around the eyeball. Just like that, its movement stops and the pain threading my nervous system subsides. From there, I can gather my senses. I stir cautiously, feeling whatever surface beneath me conform to my body. I inhale, the smell of toasted bread entrancing my nose and filling my mouth with saliva. It’s tenuous but I manage to open my eyes and nearly scream seeing Mertz standing over me. I jolt up and find myself running into the headboard of the bed I’ve been placed on. He backs up and shushes me. I ease my racing heart and sink into the mattress, my face growing warm as I lament the idea that he saw me startled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You seemed to be having a bad dream earlier,” he says gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were watching me?” I ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I came down to bring you some food,” he pauses and gestures to a plate on the nightstand paired off with a glass of red liquid. “I’m not sure what suits your tastes, but I brought you toast and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cranberry juice,” I finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. I sigh, mentally checking off one of the possibilities I considered for my abduction. In the end, it seems they want to drink my blood after all. It isn’t an unbearable thing, but… I would rather not have my blood drunk at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I also brought your belongings as well. Clothes, books… For a teenage girl, you don’t have many sentimental things,” he comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I watch as he goes about the room and opens up a wardrobe, revealing all my outfits hung neatly on hangers. I look over to what I presume to a window, though it’s entirely blocked off by a large curtain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we?” I ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this is the mansion I arranged for Carla and Shin here in the human world. Currently, we’re in the dungeon, but this room was converted for you. I thought it may be more comfortable,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I cock my head to the side and inch back as he comes to the side of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you so subservient?” I prod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips part slightly and I can sense I’ve caught him off guard by his mannerisms. He reaches up into the hood of his cloak, likely to rub his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the Tsukinami brothers are not the kinds of enemies I would like to have,” he tells me. “Truthfully… I don’t think they trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The vampires I’ve met… are all arrogant and egregiously duplicitous,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, younger vampires do tend to lack refinement. I can assure you I am not that way. In fact, I don’t know what they want with you, but… I want to help you,” he tells me with a tender voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches his hand out to me, a warm smile curling up on his lips. I stare at the palm of his hand, but I am not swayed. A slight prickling sensation ripples through my right eye, not extremely painful, but familiar. I haven’t felt it since I was a kid. When my brother and I would go into the woods, when I would look at a bush and feel that sensation right before a snake slithered out of it. My eye warning me like some kind of possessed instinct. I turn away from Mertz’s hand, taking the piece of toast instead. He draws his hand back with a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do not trust me either… But please, for your sake, reconsider,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reconsider what exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mertz spins around, seeing Shin suddenly standing behind him. I quietly take a bite of the bread and watch as the loose end is being knotted up before my eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the girl was just refusing to eat. I was trying to convince her to reconsider,” Mertz says in a voice that’s almost convincing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shin looks over at me and scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking around with me?” he growls at Mertz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, honestly, Shin-sama. I was just trying to get the girl to eat, that’s all,” Mertz insists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no need to do anything unnecessary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Shin and Mertz turn to find Carla standing at the foot of the bed. I take another bite of the bread and watch as Carla approaches Mertz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Creatures as low as yourself have limited value. It’s unwise to expend your necessity so carelessly,” Carla says, his timbre smooth and controlled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ca-Carla-sama, I-!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough, I no longer care to hear your lies,” Carla snarls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not missing a beat, Shin kicks the back of Mertz's knee, sending him crashing to the floor. Then Shin rips off the hood and reveals a mop of greenish hair. Carla’s eyes are as fiery as stars, looking down at Mertz’s shivering form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tolerated your performance, but now, you have outlived your usefulness to me,” Carla states. “The mere notion that you thought you could deceive me is purely too infuriating to be forgiven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shin grabs a tuft of Mertz’s hair in his fist and leans down to his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you really think we wouldn’t recognize the Vampire King’s little brother?” he taunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vampire King</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I set the bread back onto the plate, now watching intently. I’ve heard of such a thing. When I was in the Demon World, all the vampires kept talking about the King of Vampires. Someone by the name of Karlheinz. I also learned he frequents the human world under all sorts of names and disguises. It seems his brother is cut from the same cloth. I feel validated, not putting my trust in him. Although, this certainly means I’m not involved in the petty squabbling between low-class vampires and miscellaneous demons. Judging from Carla and Shin’s treatment of Mertz, it seems they are enemies of the Vampire King himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait… Wait, I can still be useful to you both! I can give-” Mertz rambles</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shin,” Carla interrupts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Mertz cries out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word hasn’t even finished scraping out his throat before Shin drives his hand cleanly through Mertz’s back. Mertz’s eyes are round and hauntingly white. The sound of flesh and muscle tearing, along with blood vessels being ripped apart, makes the bread I ate rise back up from my stomach. Then, with ease, Shin rips a chunk of meat out of Mertz and leaves him to fall lifelessly to the ground. Paralyzed, I stare at Shin’s hand as he grimaces. That chunk of meat… is Mertz’s heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That smell is terrible,” Shin grumbles, tossing the heart behind his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cloud of gray mist appears behind Shin, taking the form of a wolf. The wolf catches the heart before it hits the floor and swallows it whole. I can feel my jaw rattling. I have seen many terrible things… I’m no stranger to blood. But, as Mertz’s body forms a pool of red on the floor, I can feel my grasp on my expressions starting to wear thin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shin, dispose of him quickly. The rug, too,” Carla demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it!” Shin huffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the help of three other wolf familiars, Mertz’s body is carried out of the room along with the bloodied rug in a matter of seconds. The surreality of the entire scene leaves me struggling to process it. Part of me aches, that human part and deep down, I can’t help but feel disturbed. Watching someone being killed in front of me still isn’t something I can get used to. I steel myself, though, because I remind myself of why I’m playing along so nicely with Carla and Shin. Like Mertz, there is something I want to accomplish secretly as well. Carla and I exchange a look with one another and he snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re afraid… But you do not run?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes invite me to answer honestly, however, I’m sure he only intends to toy around with me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I run… I would get caught,” I answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t wrong. I don’t dislike sensible women. However, your instantaneous obedience is… suspicious,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it is, the point of these questions. Getting to the root of my behavior from the start. I could be forthcoming and tell him clearly what I stand to gain with being so passive, however… The fewer ears that hear that desire of mine, the better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s self-preservation. If you and Shin were simple vampires, I could think of a way to get away. Though, you are very clearly not and while I don’t know the extent of your capabilities, it makes no sense to make a move in any direction,” I explain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla chuckles and he comes closer to me. The headboard prevents me from instinctively backing away, which aids my strong front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I ask you something…?” I tread lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla is quiet for a moment before nodding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems that he was expecting that question because he exhales lightly and pulls his scarf down. For the first time I am able to see the entirety of Carla’s face. His white skin nearly glows and his face is much more youthful than his eyes suggest. His lips seem formed in a permanent frown and in his delicately sculpted features, there is a hint of tiredness. I begin to wonder how long he has lived for since the lifespan for a demon is endless. He sits in front of me, but there is no friendly air between us. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First Blood,” he states with precise articulation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First Blood,” I echo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And with this, the purification begins,” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I can formulate my next words, Carla has torn my school blouse from shoulders, exposing far more of my body than I was prepared for. I shut my eyes and bolster myself. What happens next is all the same. Satisfied with the answer I was given, I brace for the bite. Carla scoffs in derision, his gloved finger tracing my collarbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a single bite on your neck or chest…” he groans, his cold breath tickling my skin. “But your scent is absolutely rotten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fangs piece my skin fully in one thrust and he voraciously gulps down my blood with a fury not even I am used to. It’s a bit strange to hear that the smell of my blood is terrible, but to be drank from so intensely. Truly, it feels as if he’ll consume me entirely. I grip the bed, feeling as though I’ve already stressed my manicure too much. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s worth it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I tell myself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because now I know.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, I was a bit of a troublemaker in youth, too. However, I was more careful about getting caught than my brother was. I snuck a look at the book again after my brother put it back in our Father’s study. And there, written hastily in the back pages, was an entry about the myth among myths, the demon among demons. It read as follows: </span>
  <em>
    <span>A freakishly powerful predecessor to all known demon species, First Bloods carry the power of the Vampire, the Vibora, the Adler, and the Direwolf. Though, not much is known about them, it is assumed that they currently have been extinct for centuries.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Of course, the accuracy of such text is debatable and the politics of demons is something that goes over my head. However, I know now without a doubt that I have chosen correctly to play along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Purification or not, there is no mere vampire alive that would go up against a First Blood. At least, not right away. And time is all I need before I can start making moves of my own.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. As You Are</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mitsuna tries to become accustomed to her new life but struggles with Carla's particular form of domination.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning, this chapter discusses the death of a child so if that makes you uncomfortable, skip the last part of this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>The more that I uncovered things during that time, the more distraught I became. My blackened heart strangled me and thoughts of past happiness haunted every corner of my fragile mind. Regret upon lamentation, rage upon exhaustion, I tried to endure as long as I could. Though, it was only natural that I might break. Whatever had supported my resilience slipped away and I fell into a madness of indifference. I only quietly cried out, “Make it stop.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>… [Memoir Belonging To ____]</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>At times, I think of cutting my hair. No more so than when I’m bathing. My pruned fingertips scrub my scalp for what feels like hours, the shower head raining on me with an admirable intensity that still can’t manage to penetrate the wet mop on my head. When the shampoo has finally drained away, I move on to the tedium that is conditioning. Yes, truly I want to cut it all off. When I was younger, my hair was more tame. Always dressed in some kind of ribbon or braided by my mother and grandmother. It was less dense then, neatly trimmed to fall no farther than my chest. But now, it’s overgrown. At my hips, a heavy carcass when soaking wet. I hurry through conditioning, making sure to evenly saturate it as best I can. I want to cut it off. But… I don’t trust anyone with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sit finally, giving my neck a rest while the shower goes to work on rinsing my hair. Only my mother cut my hair. She wouldn’t even let my father touch it. It was one of the few things she was very adamant about. Even when my cousins stuck gum in it once, she refused to cut it short and spent a solid few hours coaxing the gum out without breaking a single strand. The most I ever do is snip off a split end that catches my eye every now and then. But never more than that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the conditioner has rinsed out, I turn the shower off and slip into the bathtub. The water is still warm, but I flip on the golden fixtures to let the hot water run for just a bit. I position my hair safely outside the tub and let the water boil me. A clawfoot tub seemed a bit on the nose for First Bloods, but far be it from me to pass any judgment. The bathroom connected to my room- cell- is neatly constructed. White, but not too white, walls accented with golden things here and there, a wood-panelled room divider to block the tub and shower from the view of the door. I wonder for a moment if it was Mertz, or Richter as I’ve come to find out his name was, who put the bathroom together or if it was already prepared here… in the dungeon. Both seem equally odd and yet, here I am calmly stewing in a cloud of steam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, I can gather my thoughts. I compile what I know so far. Carla and Shin, using the surname Tsukinami, are First Bloods from the demon world or Makai as they call it. From what I remember of my father’s book, First Bloods can take on the form of any of their subspecies, which includes vampires. Carla and Shin seem particularly opposed to vampires and even detest the scent which is why Carla continuously told me how awful my blood tasted last night. The fangs of a First Blood, if I am to gauge them from Carla’s fangs, are also significantly larger in both length and diameter making the bite more painful. However, that’s just a speculation based on one experience. Gathering more information on that topic would require me to meet more First Bloods, which begs the question, </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t they supposed to be extinct?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>All recordings of First Bloods in that book came to one common and concise conclusion: they all died out. Yet, Carla and Shin seem to be very far from dead and if I can guess, seem to be waging some kind of war against the Vampire King himself. Now, circling back my overarching question, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what does any of this have to do with me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not once have I encountered the Vampire King that I know of. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> does talk about him now and then, but it seems as though we have no connection. I huff, sinking down into the tub until the water meets my lips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps it’s no good asking questions, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I think.</span>
  <em>
    <span> After all, it’s not like I’ll be able to leave.</span>
  </em>
  <span> My lips part and I exhale, forming a bubble on the surface of the water. I’ve known for quite some time that escaping this life will not happen. I tried at first. The night when my blood was drunk for the first time, I tried to run away. I was entirely crippled with fear, bewildered at how quickly my happy childhood slipped out of my grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though, on second thought, it was not always happy. My right eye twitches as I remember the first time I felt pain. Right about then was when my eye started acting strange. As if something had possessed that particular organ, my right eye gradually lost all vision. The only that became visible from that side was sensation. The feeling of what might happen, foretellings of snakes in bushes. But, the more time that passed, the more intense things became. Skull-splitting migraines, strange and horrible dreams where I could only see clearly from my right side, night after night screaming in my mother’s arms. Even the look of my eye changed, to the point where my cousins couldn’t even look directly at me at the dinner table because it would make them feel nauseous. All my cousins… except Yuri. Yuri, who was six years my junior with his chipped front tooth… Who liked playing by the river with Mitsuto and I…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pull the stopper on the drain and the water drains out with a rumble. I step out of the bathtub and wring my hair out. Even now, though my eye hasn’t caused me much trouble and the iris has gone back to normal, I still can’t see out of it. However, its sudden spike in activity seems to fall in line with the timing of the lunar eclipse. Though, that’s a question I would prefer to ignore for the time being. I take the clothes I hung on the room divider, putting them on with special care around my collarbone, where Carla prioritized his “purification” last night. Walking back in the bedroom, I grab my school bag and start rummaging through my things. I take out my books and my notebooks, the order forms that I still have to finish filling out, my ID holder, nail glue, and finally find what I’m looking for buried deep inside the bag. A simple, white cotton eyepatch. My father discovered that when I was younger, if the eye was covered, some of the symptoms would disappear. Additionally, my cousins wouldn’t tease me about it. Usually my hair covers it well enough, but otherwise, I wear the eyepatch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I put it on, alleviating some of the pressure that had been building in my head instantly. I sigh, looking around the room with a somewhat refreshed perspective. Despite formerly being a cell, the room is quite spacious. The stone floor is bitterly cold, but I would prefer to never see the rug that used to be in here again. I stretch my arms out, walking around and getting a better look at all the furniture. I arch my back until I hear a nice pop and relax a bit. There’s an antique looking desk beneath one of the faux windows. Inside the drawers, as I thought, are the rest of my books and some of my stationary from my old room. Whatever makeup I own is neatly arranged on the corner of the desk. I doubt Richter would have so carefully organized my things like this so he likely left it to his familiars. I nearly chuckle at the thought of little bats flying around with compacts and lipstick bullets. If I were on more friendly terms with vampires, I might say that would be cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a seat at the desk and pick up my compact. I’m not particularly into cosmetics, like a lot of my classmates. Usually, my purchases are something that I found especially pretty. My compact, for example, is navy blue glass with little reflects of gold suspended inside like stars. In my reflection, I evaluate my complexion. Thankfully, what dark circles I had faded after I started using this bb cream. My purchases are also practical. I dab on the product with a light touch and turn my attention to the bite Carla left. This bb cream has also been quite effective in fading scars as well, but I’m sure applying it to a semi-open wound would do more harm than good. As for lipstick, I only started wearing it after I developed anemia. The less sick I looked, the less questions I got. I pick a natural reddish shade and blot it onto my lips. Then, the compact is closed and I place it back where it had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing a short breath, I look around the room once more. I don’t know what time it is, whether the sun is out or not. I’m not even quite sure where I am or if I’ll be able to return to school. Despite being taxing at times, school is the closest thing I’ve had to being able to escape. I am cold and taciturn, I know this. I don’t make much of an effort to form bonds with my classmates, even if they reach out to me. It is easier that way. But… suddenly, I think of how much I would like to see them again. I look down at my right palm. With the bandages removed, I can see the cut clearly. It’s healing nicely and within a week or so, it’ll be no more than a scar. I trace the jagged line with my fingernail, a subtle itch bubbling beneath my skin. And I remember that in my plans, I must absolutely return to school. I have already decided that much. A faint laugh seethes through my lips and I sigh, thinking of the day when that plan will come to fruition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knock on my door disturbs my daydreaming and I softly answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Shin,” he says from behind the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah… Come in,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swings open and once again, I’m met with his boyish wide grin. His smile shrinks though the minute he takes one look at my face. Likely on account that I look sedately composed, as Yoshimura so affectionately put it once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, come out. It’s time for dinner,” he tells me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He begins walking away, leaving me to hurriedly chase after him with my damp hair slapping against my back. When I catch up to him, I find that Richter really wasn’t lying about my room being in the dungeon. Entirely windowless, candle sconces illuminate a dozen or so empty iron-barred cells. I follow Shin down a long stone corridor, up a narrow set of stairs and through a door. Just like that, the cold darkness of the dungeon becomes a glittering, white-gold-red plated mansion. Everything is ornate, from the crystal chandeliers above our heads to vases sitting atop glass tables. I gulp without realizing as Shin leads me down the hallway and into another room. He flips a switch on and the room lights up immediately. A black dining table takes up most of the floor space and set by one of few chairs is an arrangement of food. Shin gestures towards the chair and I sit down at his instruction. He sits opposite me on the other side of the table, with a glass bowl of only round nuts before him. I look down at my respective spread. Prepared for me is a red soup with chunks of something white floating in it and half of a sandwich on a white plate. And, as is appropriate, my meal is served with cranberry juice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shin cracks open one of his nuts on the table, giving me the cue to start eating as well. I start with the sandwich, the soup being a bit too dubious for my liking. Other than the sound of my chewing, the only noise coming from the room is Shin’s hungry munching. I try not to look at him directly in an effort to avoid any conversation that could lead to him drinking my blood. For a moment, I think the only thing that could add more tension to this meal would be if Carla were joining us. He’s even less easy-going than his brother. I’m on my last bite of the sandwich when Shin suddenly slams his palm against the table and growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so damn dull,” he grumbles, cracking open another nut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I finish swallowing, taking a sip of my almost-spilled cranberry juice before speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you would have any interest in talking to me,” I reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha, even someone like you can say something to entertain me from time to time, ya’ know?” he grunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head and he sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s tomato soup by the way, with mozzarella. Don’t be uppity,” he snarks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” I mumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stir the soup with a spoon, finding him to be telling the truth. Though, the soup was probably never heated since the mozzarella doesn’t look remotely melted. Regardless, I take a spoonful and try to satisfy Shin’s need for amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask you something?” I say, tasting the soup and pleasantly finding that it has a rich flavor despite being cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might as well,” Shin says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look up at him and take inventory of his disposition. Judging from his slouching posture and scowl, he’s agitated so I phrase my next sentence with caution.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you tell me more about you and Carla? About First Bloods, I mean?” I ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shin’s eyes widen for a moment, his irritated expression dissolving into something softer. And then, like magic, his eyes light up and his grin returns. He turns his attention to one of his nuts, that I’ve determined to be hazelnuts judging from their appearance, and splits it open between his finger and thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In Makai, we are the predecessors of every demon you might be familiar with. Except shitty things like ghouls and spirits. Vampires, Vibora, Adlers, Direwolves, all of them came from us. So, us First Bloods are the strongest demons in the world without a doubt. And Brother… He’s the strongest First Blood alive, which makes him…” Shin pauses with a somewhat dramatic flair as if leading me to finish the sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I think for a moment, taking everything I know so far into consideration. Carla and Shin, Richter, the King of Vampires, all of it leads to one answer and I nearly choke when I realize.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carla… is the king?” I ask in the steadiest voice I can manage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bingo. So if I were you, I would start tacking on some honorifics when you talk to him,” he says cheekily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels as though my head is spinning on my neck. The severity of this circumstance is far greater than I initially thought. The infamous First Bloods are nothing to sniff at, I know that. However, the King of First Bloods…? It just does not make sense. For the most part, I am a relatively simple person. On the totem pole for the Demon World hierarchy, I am the lowest. So, why the hell would the </span>
  <em>
    <span>First Blood King</span>
  </em>
  <span> personally show up on my doorstep? I would assume that he would send foot soldiers to do everything in his bidding, like how the Vampire King is rumored to do. Yet, Carla is acting in this way with his younger brother. Why…? I meet Shin’s eyeline and assume that I’ve been silent for too long given that his grin is once again becoming a fleeting sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for letting me know,” I say and I take a sip of the juice again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Change the subject, change the subject</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I tell myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, you don’t like vampires do you?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good observation,” he snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was just wondering why you were working with a vampire like Richter at all. Considering you seem like enemies,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shin’s expression turns frighteningly bitter and he crushes another hazelnut. I worry that I’ve perhaps overstepped, but he chuckles rather than hurtling threats at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you, so concerned about that guy when he was the one who sold you out to us,” he says. “Actually, had it not been for him, we might not have even known you existed so I guess he did do something useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I scoff and ponder how many people are aware of me now. I’ve only travelled through the Makai once and I sure as hell didn’t stop to make friends. So, how was I thrust into this matter? Tapping my finger against the dining table, I try to think of who the link is between all of this. The answer itself is glaringly obvious, but I don’t want to think so. After all, the person who knew the most about this world of demons the best… was my father. Not once did I question why he was involved with matters of vampires or what his business with that church was… because it all seemed to just be the way the world worked at the time. There was no “normal” standard for me to question my father by. My entire family, grandparents, parents, aunt, uncles, cousins, and brother lived together in one big house in the middle of the forest without ever wondering about the world beyond it too deeply. Why…? Why were we like that? Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> why? What the hell did my father know?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s probably on account of your heart that the bastard tried to get to you through us,” Shin says.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My heart?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I perk up a bit, because in the midst of rather depressing details, there’s a bit of information that brings me closer to answering why I’m here. It must show because a worried look overtakes Shin’s face and he looks as if he knows he’s said too much. I smirk, just a little, which earns a glare from him. It wasn’t intentional, but I get a small kick out of him thinking that this was all an elaborate scheme to get him to cough up something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shin, your playtime is over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I erase the smirk from my face as quickly as possible. Shin sighs and sweeps the hazelnut shells scattered on the table into his palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Shin whispers and leaves Carla and I alone in the dining room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla narrows his eyes as he looks down at me. Heat seeps into my cheeks, clear evidence that I know this means trouble. Before I can even blink, he’s grabbed me by my arm and yanked me onto my feet. Like a ragdoll, I’m toyed with until I’m in a satisfactory position for him. Facing him fully, his eyes slowly scan over my body. He unravels his scarf, tossing it aside onto the dining table. I want to close my eyes and leave my body, but I can’t. My entire focus is trained on him while my body refuses to move. He lifts my left arm out until he’s formed a 90-degree angle with it. Then, he slowly rolls up the sleeve of my shirt bit by bit until he finds what it is he was searching for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s where it’s been hiding,” he says. “The source of that putrid odor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cold fingers clasp around my upper arm, so tightly that I’m worried he might cut off the circulation to the rest of my arm. His eyes are honed in on the bite mark, or should I say the cluster of bite marks, that form a cuff around my bicep. Not even bb cream was capable of covering that up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it some kind of complex that vampire of yours had that made him bite this same place over and over?” he asks in a low voice. “It must be awfully painful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drives his thumb into the cluster, but other than an awkward sensation of the digit colliding with my muscle, I feel no pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The more he bit there, the less painful it became,” I answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla raises his head a bit, looking down at me over the bridge of his nose. I can feel my blood draining out of my arm the longer he holds it up, but I don’t struggle against him. That prickling, fuzzy feeling comes to life beneath my skin but I still don’t move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph, were you expecting me to be a slave to your blood like that vampire?” he teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no expectations. What happened with him… doesn’t matter anymore, right?” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla chuckles, but there’s no softness in his eyes. His face is cold and cruel. Without fail, he looks deep into me and like a child with a mallet, he hammers away at my confident front. The more I try to maintain it, the more eagerly he chips it away. But, I steady myself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You got something out of Shin, so be calm,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know… I can read your mind?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every muscle in my jaw clenches to prevent my mouth from falling open. Little by little, the difference between us becomes magnified. He looks down at me, down </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, because in his eyes I am small. Small enough to crush in his large hands. And no matter how much I think, no matter how much I learn, his unforgiving eyes see it all. It’s so pathetic I could retch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even someone as subdued as you has little tells. Your emotionless face does nothing to hide that curious eye. It wants to investigate everything until it slowly pieces it all together and then, it burns with a desire to strike,” he says, finally letting my arm drop. “Frankly, I do not care whether or not you obey me naturally or with another motive in mind… as long as you </span>
  <em>
    <span>obey</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a swift movement, I’m swept off my feet and my back is suddenly pressed firmly onto the surface of the dining table. Carla leans over me, his body positioned firmly between my legs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Endure it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I tell myself, but doing so is much more difficult than thinking it. He lowers himself until his mouth is at my ear. And then, he speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“However,  I think it is important you know exactly what your place is here. You are food. Nothing more, nothing less. Food does not think about being anything else, it does not ask why it is food. It simply exists to be eaten and it should aspire to nothing else. As long as it takes, I will carve that very statement into your soul until the moment that inquisitive spark in your eyes is snuffed out,” he tells me, his breath like ice pricking my skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he raises himself back up, I must look defeated because he smirks. In truth, it was much easier not to believe that all before. Though I was being fed on, there was always a voice in my mind that kept me from thinking that I was ultimately inferior. It is much harder to reconcile that thought with my current predicament. Regardless, my initial goal is unchanging so I must cling to it. Because four years ago, I made a promise. A promise that I will most definitely see through to the end. Carla’s focus lands on my eyepatch and without a word, his hand moves to remove it. Without thinking, as if drawn by instinct, I clasp my hand around his wrist to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you resist…” he sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I ready myself for impact, what will it be? A harsh bite, a slap, maybe he’ll break my hand for touching him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this eye is your weak point… In that case, you can continue to hide it,” he says. “For now, I will begin the purification.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, the term “purification” comes up. I wonder…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you not to ask questions. Just be obedient and hand yourself over to me. Surely, you must want to be purified so take it gratefully,” he demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gratefully?</span>
  </em>
  <span> A familiar emotion spurs in the pit of my stomach, making my body flush with anger. As he looks down at me, waiting for me to do as I’m told, I can only think of one thing: I hate Carla. But… not more than I hate </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So, regardless of what my pride tells me to do, I let go of Carla’s wrist and unbutton my shirt. I stop at my bra and press my finger to the left side of my chest. I can feel my heart throbbing wildly in my ribcage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you drink from here… the purification will be more effective, I’m sure,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his lips part, I can see the tips of his fangs. But I must not be afraid. This much… is nothing to me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits me up and then, without warning, pierces his fangs into my chest. Yes, this pain is nothing to me by now. As my blood is siphoned out without inhibition, I repeat this in my mind. Carla grunts, nearly gagging as he drinks, but does not let up for even a moment. I have no idea how long the purification will take. I have no real way of knowing what awaits me once it does. But for now, I fall away from consciousness. The dining room spins and tilts like a globe around its axis, and then becomes nothing at all. Once again, in the darkness, I am alone with my thoughts. And for some reason, the memory of that day becomes inescapable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As vividly as if I were there, reliving it all, I’m running through the forest barefoot. My vision was smeared with tears and I hit every damn branch on my way to the river. I told myself it isn’t real, that it was only a dream. Mitsuto’s footsteps trailed close behind, calling after me but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Broken sticks and thorns cut into the soles of my feet but I couldn’t possibly stop. Not until I confirmed it for myself that what I had seen through my right eye wasn’t real. When I finally came to the riverbank and wiped my tears, I looked up and down the stream. At every splash, at every bubble, at every rock… every little rock. I collapsed, the skirt of my dress falling around me like flower petals. Mitsuto came barreling out of the forest shortly after, but unlike me, my brother ran straight into the river. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Splashing furiously through the water, fighting against the pull of the current, he grabbed onto the little body of a boy. Our four-year-old cousin… Yuri, floating face-down in the river. Just like I had seen… I wanted to scream, to cry out like my brother was. But, there was no sound that I could possibly make above a whimper. None of my cousins believed me when I told them what I saw. They thought it was just a bad dream I had. I had hoped they were right. But, it was true. What I had seen, what my eye had shown me. Without realizing, my hand had begun sifting over the ground of the riverbank, looking for something- anything- sharp enough. Never again did I want to see someone die. So, with a sharp stick in my hand, I decided to gouge my eye out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amidst my brother’s screams, I aligned the tip of the stick with its target and closed my left eye. With all of the strength my arms could muster, I drove the stick towards me. But, nothing happened. Just close enough to scrape my cornea, the stick had been stopped by my father. He took it out of my hand with ease and hurled it into the river. My uncle Souji came out of the forest not long after, rushing over to my brother who was trying to bring Yuri back to the bank. But my father, entirely poised and calm, cupped my face in his rough hand and he said,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must never forsake the gifts given to you, Mitsuna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle Souji roared out, cursing every single god that I had ever heard of and then some, holding his son in his arms. I watched, my father at my side, and I simply wept knowing there was nothing I could do but be burdened by this kind of sight for the rest of my life.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Irreparable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mitsuna discovers something about Carla that changes their dynamic greatly, but fears she may not live long enough to see out her own desires.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>My daughter cries every night. I place my hand on her small head, braiding and unbraiding her hair with my fingers. She sniffles and nurses her aching temples. I tell her stories from time to time. Stories of a past she doesn’t know yet. Of princesses and of monsters. Though her teeth grit and force a smile, the agony behind her eyes burns through me. I want to erase the pain, I want to make her as innocent as the day she was born. But, there is no escaping this way of life. Because she bears our name, this is the fate she is helplessly led to. All I can do is soothe her, watching as her iris fractures again and again, tears falling endlessly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>[Itomori Yuuto’s Journal]</b>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>I am my father’s daughter. Entirely composed of his features, even down to his certain mannerisms, I resemble him. Though, when I was a child, I didn’t like the comparison. Outwardly, yes, I took after my father more than my mother. We had the same dark hair, the same pale skin, the same sharp eyes, and our smiles were small and crooked. But, my father was an intense man. I didn’t speak often due to shyness, but my father spoke through what he didn’t say. He was particularly secretive, for better or worse and this is a trait that I inherited from him as well. I was never one to talk about what I was doing or why. Even in the confidence of my brother, I locked my true thoughts and worries away. Now, nothing has changed. Blank faced, I endure what happens around me. What is done to me…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of running water stirs my consciousness and I groan, stretching out in the soft white sheets that smell faintly of cologne. This particular part of my day has become routine. For the past week or so, I’ve woken up with a sore body. Shin comes and knocks on my door, silently bringing me up from the dungeon to eat. I stomach another bowl of cold soup until Carla comes to start the purification again, drinking my blood until I pass out. Then, the cycle repeats. Except, as I come to open my eyes, I find myself looking out a window. A real window, with two red armchairs beneath it. The night sky is scattered with glittering stars that illuminate the otherwise dark room. Laid over me is a crimson duvet and beneath my head is a pillow in a golden silk case. And, frozen to this spot on the cloud-like mattress, my entire body is racked with shivers because… this is not my room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn over, slowly, somewhat terrified of finding someone laying in this bed with me. But, as the mattress dips and shifts to support me, I find that I’m entirely alone. I feel around my body, relieved to see that my clothes from the previous night are still on. There’s no soreness…</span>
  <em>
    <span> there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so I sigh and try to steady the heartbeat that has been drumming in my ears. It seems, with the exception of bites that litter my neck and collarbone, I haven’t been harmed at all while I was unconscious. I lift my head, peeking around the room to get my bearings. Opposite the large bed, mounted on the wall, is a variety of paintings. Mostly landscapes, some that I’ve seen in picturebooks from the library. The odd portrait is hung here and there, but mostly illustrated with subdued tones that don’t distract from the landscapes. On the bedside table, beneath an unlit lamp, is a stack of books.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the books are related to art theory, regarding color and composition, but placed neatly on top is </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Prince</span>
  </em>
  <span> by Machiavelli and though I already assumed whose room this was, I am now absolutely certain. This is Carla’s room. And as if by some precise direction, the moment I come to that realization, I hear glass breaking. I sit up with a jolt, hearing a voice from an adjacent room, where the sound of water is coming from. A bit of light shines from beneath one of the two doors in the room, which I suppose is a bathroom. A shadow hastily moves around from behind the door and the voice from before groans loudly. I sink into the bed, bringing the duvet up to my nose as I listen. Another groan, this one sounding tormented and pained. Something else falls to the floor and I hear a fit of coughing strong enough to expel a lung. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It couldn’t be</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I think. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s no way…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, at once, the water shuts off and the light goes out. Without thinking, I roll over to face the window and squeeze my eyes shut. A door opens and heavy footsteps approach the bed slowly. The mattress dips and I can feel a cold, metallic breath on the back of my neck. But I breathe, in and out, completely steady and act as if I am asleep. When I was kid, I had a terrible habit of laughing whenever I pretended to be asleep in front of someone. Yet now, I’m as silent as death praying that he’ll draw back because I’m sure, if he knows I heard him, he won’t be happy. I hear him sigh and stifle a cough. The bed raises and his footsteps recede, going around the bed. From behind my eyelids, I can see something break up the light from the window and I hear him sit in one of the armchairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sigh and then he speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At this rate… we’re getting nowhere,” Carla mumbles. “There isn’t much time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice trails off and it’s the first time I’ve heard him speak in a soft tone. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he sounds sad. And I wonder what he means… </span>
  <em>
    <span>there isn’t much time.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Earlier, what I heard, does that mean he’s sick? Can First Bloods even get sick? It seems… unlikely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this my punishment? … Father?” Carla speaks quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hang on the word “Father”. In the monotony of having my blood drank, I didn’t learn much about Carla or Shin’s family. I know it’s possible for vampires to have offspring so I would assume First Bloods are the same. However, I didn’t really think about where Carla and Shin came from. More importantly, if Carla is the supposed King of First Bloods then… what became of his father? The more I ponder these things, the harder it is to keep my expression controlled. Before Carla can say anything else, I groan and stretch out, trying to replicate how I normally do when waking up. I let my eyes flutter open, slowly, and squint as if trying to focus on Carla’s face. Unsurprisingly, he is looking directly at me with his cold stare. Whatever softness was with him just now has gone. I sit up, yawn, and look around the room as if it is my first time doing so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, you’re awake,” Carla says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights in his room flicker on altogether, though no switch had been flipped. However, I’ve come to find that the First Bloods have a plethora of abilities. Shin, in particular, makes frequent use of being able to shapeshift in a wolf. Seeing that was far more surprising. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let us continue where we left off last night,” Carla tells me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a breath, he snatches me up from the bed and forces me to stand. But, to his surprise and mine, my knees wobble and give out. As I hit the floor, the whole room seems to tilt and stretch like a piece of fabric. My right eye throbs and a pang ripples throughout my entire body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get a hold of yourself, woman,” Carla growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifts me and lays me back on the bed with a huff, but every movement sends my nerves into orbit. As he tries to get on top of me, I push him away with what little strength I have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re denying me?” he snarls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knew it was only a matter of time before my body started to give out. With this rigorous routine, even if I endured it mentally, losing so much blood in such a short period of time was bound to cause problems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is too much…” I tell him, even though he’s beginning to split into doubles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla scoffs and grabs my wrists pinning me cleanly to the bed, but I lift my foot and press it to his abdomen. I steel myself, ready for him to be angry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Surely, he can’t get what he wants if I’m dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I think. But, it isn’t anger that I see. As my foot makes contact with him, he grits his teeth and chokes back a pained grunt. I can feel something cold and wet against my heel and even though my vision is blurring, there’s no mistaking it. It’s blood, soaking through his white shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I even have time to wrap my tongue around another syllable, his hand has locked around my neck. The blade of a knife that seemed to materialize from his other palm is aligned squarely with my left eye. I claw at his hands, at his chest, wherever I can reach. I feel my thumbnail break off, but the pain doesn’t register. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t breathe!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forget what you saw, don’t even dream of it! And if you breathe a word of it to anyone, I will tear you to pieces! Do you understand me?” he hisses, his fangs seeming to grow larger the closer his face comes to mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I…” I try to speak but all I can do is gasp for air. “I won’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Swear it, or I’ll kill you right here!” he growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I try to speak but any sound that comes out is just a frail whimper. My right eye is pulsating, that itching sensation bubbling up and… </span>
  <em>
    <span>that feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span>. When my eye changed for the first time… When my iris cracked. As swiftly as I can, I reach up toward my face and rip off my eyepatch. Carla pauses, looking at the right side of my face and ever so slightly, I can feel the grip on my neck lessen. I gulp in as much air will pass the narrow space opened up and manage to gather enough strength to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear… I know your secret and… you know mine! I swear!” I scrape out, my voice hoarse and ragged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blade lifts away and Carla lets go of my neck. I cough violently, backing away from him until I tip over and fall off the bed onto the hard floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out… now,” he orders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t have to say it twice. Adrenaline driving me most of the way, I grab my eyepatch and hurriedly stagger out of his room, rushing out into the hallway. I make it a few feet before collapsing to the carpet, still wheezing and sputtering. I try to swallow, but the walls of my throat scratch together and I can taste my own blood. With my trembling hands, I string the eyepatch back on but the pain doesn’t end. It’s just like I remember it. Over the past few years, while that bastard drank my blood, the strange look of my eye gradually repaired itself. And yet now, why… am I experiencing this again? Why…? Laying on the floor, I manage to catch my breath despite feeling as if my skull is about to burst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a few tries, but I get back on my feet. Using the wall to support my weak body, I try to put as much distance between Carla and myself as possible. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m doing my best, but… how much longer will this go on?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The feeling of wallpaper beneath my fingertips fades suddenly becomes cold glass and I stop, finding myself looking at a balcony. I slump, gazing out of the window panes at the stretch of forest that fills the expanse of the horizon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to go outside,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think in a haze. And without thinking of much else, I push the glass door open and step outside. The early spring air bites, but it’s pleasant to feel the breeze. I stalk toward the stone railing, resting against it. I don’t dare to look at the ground, knowing it would only worsen my dizziness. But, for a moment, I just close my eyes and inhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your eye is a gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes snap open, hearing a voice that I hadn’t anywhere besides my memories. Standing next to me, leaning against the railing with a wistful look, is my father. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m hallucinating,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I tell myself. And I know I am, but I can’t look away from him. He sighs, just like how he used to and turns toward me with his small, crooked smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father…” I whimper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always were an obedient child, Mitsuna,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the world crumbles away.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>I still remember that morning. The morning of my mother’s birthday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I was fourteen, many things were strained. My father and brother rarely got along and as a result, Mitsuto began resenting me. He thought, at that time, that our father favored me. Perhaps, he was right. My father watched me carefully, constantly asking me about the condition of my eye. He insisted and insisted that my eye was a gift. A gift that had only been seen in my great-great-grandfather, Itomori Tomoyuki. A gift that my father described as “Seeing”. A gift that had to be nurtured and controlled. And Mitsuto, without such a gift, fell to the wayside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, my mother’s birthday was a day when we should have all come together as one. I woke up early that morning, before everyone else. I went out into the woods to pick wildflowers. My aunt, Anna, had shown me how to weave flower crowns so my idea was to make one for my mother. I followed the trail to the river, then followed the river to a pond where wildflowers grew. I picked whatever was prettiest and weaved the stems together. By the time I returned home, I was expecting everyone to be up. For Grandmother to be preparing breakfast while Grandfather tried to corral my cousins at the dining table. And yet, as I came to the meadow, it was silent. Not even the finches were singing. The front door hung open, swaying gently with the passing breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps I should have run away and spared myself from the sight. But then, I didn’t know any better. Even if things were uncomfortable sometimes, I was happy with my family. I didn’t question why we all lived together in one big house, why we never interacted with other people, why my father was visited by people from that church. So I went closer and stood in the doorway of my house without the faintest idea of what awaited inside. And I wondered why my eye hadn’t shown me that day, hadn’t prepared me for it like it did with Yuri. Maybe the proper course of things had been derailed that day. I stood frozen in the doorway for quite some time, the flower crown falling from my hand and landing in a pool of blood. Blood that painted the walls, that splattered the ceiling, staining my nightmares for years to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The family that I held so dear, that I considered myself to be one with, laid scattered about the house. Some had tried to run, some had tried to fight back, but in the end, they ended up the same way. Eyes shocked open and mouths agape. Bodies stiff and motionless. Not a single person left… except me. And the vampire who slaughtered them all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My father instilled in me, as his father had in him, the natural order of justice when it involved family. So, I held this particular code as an absolute:</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Should someone break your brother’s arm, you will break their arm in return. Should someone poke your sister’s eye out, you will poke their eye out in return. Should someone cut your mother’s skin, you will cut their skin in return. And, should someone kill your father, you will kill them in return.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>From that day, without faltering, I promised to kill the vampire that took away everything from me. No matter how long I endured his abuse, I would wait until the precise time. And kill him with my own two hands.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Tension</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shin and Mitsuna go for a stroll, leading to another important discovery for the latter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Father Samuel has come to visit again. Entertaining the whims of the church that my great-grandfather started gets no more enjoyable as time passes. These days, he’s become paranoid that vampires have returned to Transylvania. Such a thing seems unlikely considering they were entirely eradicated from the area a century ago. Though, our Japanese branch has been compromised so I should take precaution. If a vampire with a good knowledge of my family learned that the Itomori line had finally produced a daughter…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>[Itomori’s Yuuto’s Journal]</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When I open my eyes, I’m back in my room in the dungeon. The amount of relief I feel is pitiful. On my bedside table is a large glass of water and a thick sandwich, stacked with some kind of sliced white meat and lettuce. As quick as my limbs allow, I grab the sandwich and begin eating eagerly. Chicken has never tasted more divine. I sit back against the headboard and pace myself, not wishing to add a stomach ache to the running list of ailments. In my mind, thoughts of Carla cycle through over and over. Talking about being punished for something, the coughing fits, the blood from his abdomen… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wound? Or infection maybe? Is that even possible?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Whatever he’s afflicted with, it’s not something he wants Shin to know about. I press my fingers to my neck and sure enough, it hurts like hell. To think, I showed him my eye just to get him to trust that I wouldn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he would know, but I’m sure having an odd eye isn’t comparable to being a demon with some kind of horrible injury. I swallow the last morsel of the sandwich and sip away at the water. I feel invigorated, but then again, it’s likely on account of resting. I’m not sure how long I was out for, but I’m sure my body needed it. Still, carefully, I swing my legs out of bed and let my feet touch the floor. I test the pressure, making sure I have the strength to hold myself upright. Then, with renewed confidence, I stand and walk into the bathroom. When I flip the light on, the first thing I see is my reflection in the mirror. My heart drops. My hair is tangled into a nest and on my neck is a hand-shaped bruise. Even my cheeks have lost fullness. And my right eye, just as I thought, has started to take on its old look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The iris, like a glass marble, has begun to fracture. The first time it happened, I was with my cousin, Heiji. The moment he looked at it, he threw up. I’m not sure why my iris breaking apart accompanies strange visions, but it’s likely the source of the blindness in my right eye. Moreover, I’m not sure why my eye repaired itself only to break apart like this again, but nevertheless life goes on. I bend over, letting my hair hang upside down and go about detangling it with a brush. By the time I finish, my hair feels about twenty percent lighter. I twist it up into a bun, sitting precariously on the crown of my head as I turn the shower head on. The scalding water pelts my skin, teetering on the line between pain and pleasure. I turn and let the water hit the tense spot between my shoulder blades, instantly drawing a sigh from my lips. The pitter-patter is almost enough to knock me out immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I end the shower as soon as my bun loosens, wrapping a towel around my body just in time for my hair to unfurl down my back. I stop at the mirror again, wiping away the steam to look at my neck once more. Just long enough to commit this to memory: I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a mark like this again. I give myself an affirming nod and leave the bathroom. When I reenter my bedroom, Shin is sitting on my bed… holding onto a pair of my overalls and black long-sleeved tee. My grip on my towel could not be tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look better,” he says blithely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I huff and close the bathroom door as he stands up. He shoves the clothes into my hands, nearly making my towel drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go for a walk,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes widen slightly and I wonder what the meaning of this is. Why so suddenly is he taking me outside?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have ten minutes to be upstairs so hurry up, yeah?” he snorts before vanishing from the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, I try to calm my suspicions and get dressed. Five minutes left and I sit at the desk. Though I doubt we’ll be going anywhere with other people, I still try to improve my tired appearance. I dab some bb cream on my neck, which is more hurtful than effective. Then, a little cream beneath my eyes and a red lip tint to compensate for my pallid complexion. I put on my eyepatch and slip into my sneakers, leaving the dungeon. Full of apathy, Shin is waiting at the front door. As I come to join him, he pushes the door open with a heavy sigh and leads me out into night. For the first time since being taken to this place, I can get a better view of the mansion’s structure. It’s a dark-colored building, definitely more European in architecture than Japanese but that suits Carla’s tastes, I think. From the drive, I can see the balcony where I fainted. There’s no ivy or other means of climbing down from the balcony safely so if I were to fall from that height… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would’ve been a pain in the ass,” Shin says suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn and look up at him as we walk around the house, passing fresh flower beds. Surely, he can’t read minds, too?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were planning on jumping from there yesterday, weren’t you?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I want to shake my head. Yet, I stop myself and allow for everything to click into place. If they thought I went onto the balcony to kill myself, then… is this why Shin is taking me for a walk? Is it some attempt to lift my spirits? After nearly strangling me to death yesterday, I can’t imagine Carla would care whether I lived or died. However, he said himself there isn’t much time left for whatever they are planning. Maybe at this point, if I were to die, it would be detrimental… which means they need me as a person and not just my blood. Thinking this, I hang my head and try to force some kind of shamed blush. Shin sighs as if I’ve affirmed him. I can play this in my favor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I would have died as it was, I just wanted to have some control over it,” I tell him in a soft voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Brother isn’t trying to kill you, ya’ know? He’s trying to cleanse your blood, which by the way, smells repulsive,” Shin says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After walking around the edge of the house, we come to a trail that appears to wind through the forest ahead. I stay close to Shin, listening as crickets sing and owls hoot. It’s almost serene. The moon is half-full, nighttime clouds veil the stars. These are the kinds of nights I enjoy. Even though it’s a ploy, it does lift my mood some.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” I begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shin’s head perks up and he looks back at me over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For?” he leads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I got you in trouble by asking too many questions the other day. I didn’t mean to. It’s just a bit difficult to suddenly live like this without knowing anything,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I catch up to Shin, walking at his side with a solemn look. He looks up toward the sky quietly, a thoughtful expression on his face. In his eye, there is a familiar twinge of sadness that I’ve had many times. If I didn’t know any better, I might say that he has empathized with me. We walk the path, skipping over the brush and sticks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if it’s alright, thank you for taking me outside, but why are you doing this?” I ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what it’s like,” he starts as we come to a break in the trees. “There was a point in time where us First Bloods were locked away for a long time. It can get tedious being confined, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We stop at a paved road and as we walk, I feel some strange emotion grip my heart. Though I’m dubious of his intentions in telling me about being locked away, there is some painful sincerity in his voice. His tone was soft, as if just thinking about it tormented him. And as I steal a glance at his face, I can visualize what Carla told him to do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Take her for a walk, get her to soften up towards you, that way she can endear us to herself.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’ll play along because this benefits me. But I know, at the core of our beings, humans and demons cannot understand one another. Our intrinsic natures are far too different. Before I know it, Shin and I have entered the outskirts of a rather familiar shopping district. I almost double-take. Never would I have guessed that we were so close to the city. Shin and I walk together, passing all the shops that I would occasionally go to whenever that bastard was busy at baseball practice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there somewhere specific you want to go before we head back?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here’s my chance! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I shake my head and say, “It was nice to get out. But, I really want to go back to school…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I would also like to get my nails fixed but my priority is getting back to school. If I can’t go back… then all of this is meaningless. Shin doesn’t say anything at first. I’m sure he’s contemplating whether or not that will really happen. At the end of the day, it all comes down to what Carla decides. Shin clicks his tongue and sinks his hands into his pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see what I can do,” he tells me with a smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I smile, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Shin,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it, you can just owe me one,” he says with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My smile evaporates instantly, which makes him laugh. With that, we walk back to the mansion. I savor my last few minutes outside before I have to return to the stuffy dungeon. And as we return to the yard, one more question simmers on my tongue. It’s something that’s been gnawing at me since I got here, but phrasing the question could be tricky. I have to seem interested, but not investigative. Just before we reach the front door, I take Shin’s hand in both of mine. He turns and looks down at me with a puzzled face. Carla wants me to be fooled, to be enamored. If it gets me back in school, then so be it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it get lonely for you living with Carla-san?” I ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shin cocks his head, his brow raising. I should explain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I just mean it might be tense with him being King. I thought it might be difficult for you two to interact like normal brothers,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… stupid. Even back when our father was King, we wouldn’t have interacted in a way that would be ‘normal’ to a human like you,” he sneers.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah! An opening!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… suppose you’re right. But, you said your father was King, so… why is Carla-san…?” I tread.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s tenuous, if I push too far, I could end up angering Carla again. But, at the mention of his father, that tormented look returns to Shin’s eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our father died,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla mentioned his father when he thought I was sleeping. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Some kind of punishment…? Some kind of illness or wound that Carla doesn’t want Shin to know about… Interesting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have asked about your family, it’s not my business,” I say, letting Shin’s hand go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, it doesn’t really change anything,” Shin sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m sure Carla is listening to this conversation somewhere. So, I should end this conversation carefully… In the interest of being fair, perhaps I should sacrifice some information of my own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just asking because… a few years ago, my family was taken away from me. So, if you were feeling lonely, I thought I may be able to sympathize with you,” I mumble softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shin’s look shifts somewhat. The hint of anger in his eye, but the softened expression on his face. Because he does understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. With that, Shin and I part ways entering the mansion. Alone, I walk back to the dungeon and in the unlit corridor, I allow myself to relax. The facade crumbles away and the gears in my head begin turning and grinding. I enter the bedroom and fall back onto the bed. I mentally trace the cracks in the gray ceiling, weaving together what I know into a tapestry that illustrates a larger story that I’ve been thrust into. Some details have yet to be added, but now… I understand. I had my theories, but Shin’s behavior confirms what I thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that old journal belonging to my father, the First Bloods were believed to be extinct meaning there would have to be something that caused their death. For an immortal superspecies, that much seemed far-fetched. However, Shin’s mention that they were all locked up for some time, in addition to Carla’s ailment, would point toward some kind of disease or infection that ultimately leads to death. Given that Carla and Shin are doing their own dirty work, I may be able to safely assume that the rest of the First Bloods- including their father, the former king- have died. So now, no longer locked away, Carla and Shin have come to the human world for… a human girl? Shin mentioned something about the nature of my heart once and Carla is fervently trying to purify my blood. And now, thinking that I was on the verge of killing myself, they are trying to appear kinder to me meaning that they need me as a person…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gears stop turning. I sit up and stare out at nothing in particular, the tension suppressed in my body released at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Lullaby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mitsuna finally returns to school, but thoughts of her mother prevent her from fully enjoying it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>At heart, I know my children are distrustful of me. Until they are old enough to understand, I must keep them from knowing the world at all. Mitsuna especially must be nurtured carefully. She is an idealistic child. Though her mind is strong, her heart suffers. She feels the pain of everyone around her and absorbs it silently until she breaks. In her mother’s arms, she sleeps soundly while being tortured by visions of a world she doesn’t understand yet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>[Itomori Yuuto’s Journal]</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sleep, sleep, my sweet child.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re a good child, now it’s time to sleep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mother… I would like to go back to that morning. I dozed on your lap, in the meadow surrounding our house. As the sun peeked over the mountains painted into the horizon, you sang to me. I was troubled then, by a number of things. Still, you stroked my hair and sang as if we would be suspended in that moment forever. I lifted my head and asked you, “Is there something wrong with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You held my cheek in your hand, wiping away tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. And you said, “There isn’t a thing wrong with you, dear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That much was hard to believe, but I rested my head against your chest and listened to the sound of your heartbeat. Calm, unlike mine. Like a lullaby, a steady drum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite the opposite actually. You are a special and precious child,” you told me. “At times, being special means that life can be challenging, but that’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mother, you always said the right thing. Not like Father, who said things bluntly or not at all. Not like Mitsuto, who avoided the most difficult topic. Out of everyone, you saw when I was having a difficult time and you held me like you did that morning. Beneath the cloudless blue sky, among the fluttering songbirds, you sang to me the lullaby your mother sang to you. Before you met Father, before you left your life in Japan behind to live as a traditional Itomori wife. At times, I wondered if you missed your mother as much as I miss you. Surely, you must have been pained, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared,” I whispered to you. And you said to me, “Children often are, but children with good hearts will find something more important than fear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But now, just now, that’s right…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sleep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t think of you as much these days. No, I should say that I try not to. Because you are no longer here, I cannot depend on you. I cannot rest in your lap and expel my worries onto you. You cannot shield me like you did then. I cannot think of you as much, because it would simply be too painful. I am afraid now, but for a different reason. I am afraid that I might have become a person you wouldn’t like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>☆</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Carla and I walk up the school lawn, a peculiar heaviness looms over me. Though I wanted nothing more than to return to school, and I was overjoyed that Carla allowed it, lethargy clings to me like a wet wool sweater. Last night, I tossed and turned dreaming of my mother, something I don’t normally allow myself to do for this very reason. Thinking of my mother is remarkably depressing for me. Mutely, I follow Carla into the school and do my best to avoid making eye contact with other students. It’s unlike me to miss school and, worse, for me to return with a necklace of bruises. My blouse collar conceals whatever bb cream couldn’t, still I keep fussing with my hair in an effort to hide my neck entirely. For that reason, I’m almost grateful I can’t attend class regularly.</span>
</p><p><span>Carla agreed to let me return to school, but of course, I’m not allowed to go to my old homeroom. Yoshimura so graciously lent us one of the study labs in the library normally used for tutoring, surely out of the kindness of his heart. As Carla and I walk, we pass my homeroom and unfortunately, that guy Tetsuro. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him step toward me but I keep my eyes to the floor and follow Carla. I’m not sure what he makes of being ignored, but it isn’t as if I’m hurting his feelings. We had never spoken before the night of the lunar eclipse and his job is just to keep an eye on me until that bastard gets back. </span><em><span>If</span></em> <em><span>he comes back at all. </span></em></p><p>
  <span>That very disconcerting thought sends a chill down my spine as Carla leads me into the study lab. I would assume that the bastard would be too egotistical to let me be stolen away for too long, but it’s not as if he’s an idiot. Quite contrary, he’s smart. With the lunar eclipse over, I’m sure he’s plotting a way to get me back in a way that doesn’t involve getting ripped apart by wolves. Which means, I have to be prepared for the possibility that my ideal orchestration may fall apart and respond accordingly. But… for now, I’m too tired to think about it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>For today only</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I tell myself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll give it a rest.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I look around the study lab we were given and thankfully, it’s the one with the window that takes up most of the exterior wall. There’s also a long desk from the science room, adorned with a stack of papers that look ripe to be used as kindling. Other than a chalkboard, there’s not much else in the room except for a decorative poster of a cat dangling from a tree branch, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hang in there!</span>
  </em>
  <span> How ridiculous…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sit at the desk, while Carla lingers by the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have something to attend to, stay here. I do not have to warn you about trying to escape, do I?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head and yawn. He hums and leaves the lab without another word. Though minutes pass, I find myself staring at the door. I… feel strange. If what I think about Carla is true, and what he wants from me is also true, then how am I to reconcile that with my own plans? Logically, I know the steps to take. Just as he is trying to deceive me, I should deceive him as well. Act soft and naive, attempt to gain some favor or the illusion of it… but there is a very legitimate sacrifice I would have to make if the purification is completed before I can kill that guy. It would seem that Carla and I are in the same position then, racing against our own clocks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How tiring</span>
  </em>
  <span>… I yawn once more and turn my attention to the stack of papers on the desk. Placed neatly on top, on a pink sticky note in neat handwriting is a message from Yoshimura.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Extracurricular budgetary forms, ventilation schematics for the library coming in a few weeks,” I read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh deeply, taking a pen out of my bag and starting the calculations in my head.</span>
  <em>
    <span> This club needs this much, that club needs that, the baseball team needs another damn set of uniforms and transportation for away games. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There are many things I dislike but paperwork reigns supreme in terms of nuisances. Nevertheless, I allocate the proper amount of funds to each club and team and field trip. Unlike last term, however, it seems we have a larger surplus. Even though I’m unsure if I’ll be able to participate this year, I put money towards our annual sports festival. It’s not mandatory, but it’s Nishikami tradition to host a festival in the spring term. Perhaps this year, we can have a fireworks display as well. I’m sure the other students would enjoy that. Although, that would require permits which means more paperwork- for me- to file. I growl and push the papers aside. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This borders on an abuse of power.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I lay my head on the desk and huff, looking out of the window. To some degree, being the Silver Genius and subsequent desk jockey of the headmaster is necessary. Without him blindly pushing his duties onto me, I wouldn’t have access to the library’s ventilation systems to make the repairs needed. And if he didn’t trust me so foolishly, he would examine the vents himself and see that nothing needs to be done… or installed. It’s a bit of an extravagant idea, but the element of surprise cannot be understated. Another yawn… and my eyelids feel heavy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just for today…” I mumble. “I’ll try to rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes shut and for a moment, all of my troubles grow distant. The constant motion of my thoughts slows for once and I softly ask myself… </span>
  <em>
    <span>What would my mother think of me now?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I hadn’t stopped to ask that question. I didn’t even really acknowledge my mother in memories, even though my happiest ones were with her. But, like a rose, the more I tried to hold onto it, the more it pricked me. Is it because I am no longer a good child? Is that why I cannot think of her without wanting to cry? When she held me in her arms, I could never imagine wanting to kill someone much less resolving to actually do so. To my father, it would be absolutely justifiable. But, to my mother… even though it is for her sake I want to do it, would she feel the same way? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why… do I think about this now?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When I open my eyes, the quiet evening has rolled into a rainy night. Though, it isn’t a storm like the night of the lunar eclipse. It’s a gentle, cleansing rain that drips sweetly and covers everything in a glassy dew. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like this rain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I start to close my eyes again, but the flip of a page startles me to attention. Now sitting across from me, as if he had been in the room from the start, is Carla. Poised, he flips another page in </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Prince</span>
  </em>
  <span> and sighs as if I’ve disturbed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You plead to return to school but spend half the day asleep. How is that to be understood?” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half the day? Had I really been sleeping for that long? I fuss with a lock of my hair, twirling it around my fingers as heat spreads over my face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night I suppose,” I say quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla hums and looks up from the book, his eyes narrowing on me. At first, I expect to see his normal stone-like expression. Perhaps some anger as well. But, his face is oddly somber. More than anything else, he looks tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You called out for your mother while you were sleeping,” he says, lowering his focus back to the book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My jaw clenches and I sink back into my chair. The last thing I want is to be seen as weak to him. The thought is enough to recoil at, but… for today, I want to rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been in a sentimental mood lately, it seems,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something may be gained from this baring of emotion. To show that my guard is dropping and as a result, make him think a trust is being developed. Of course, he purports that he can read my thoughts regardless so perhaps I’m just playing this game with myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother passed away, is that right?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod, my hair now knotted around my knuckles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So he was listening to what I told Shin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone did,” I tell him. “Everybody… except me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My gaze becomes unfocused and all at once, my entire body freezes up. I just sit in my chair, cycling through faces that are becoming more and more difficult to remember. I remember my parents well enough, my grandparents less so. My cousins have blended into an amalgamation of features that seemingly make up an entirely new person in my head. When the hell did that happen? I don’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think… I said too much,” I mutter as my hair snags on my broken thumbnail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I look up at Carla’s face, something of me is reflected in his eyes. Some sliver of understanding. I yawn again, my breath scattering harshly in the quiet room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carla-san… Is it okay if I go buy some coffee from the vending machine in the hall?” I ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I expect a firm “no”. Honestly, I’m not sure what possessed me to ask so suddenly. But, in his unchanging tone, he answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod with more enthusiasm than I've had all day, scooting my chair back and walking out of the lab with my coin purse in hand. There’s something familiar, something comforting, about walking out of the library and going to get coffee. Even the way my heels click against the glossy floor makes me feel warm. It’s strange what things are clung to and made sacred. The psyche’s way of protecting itself is fascinating. Bringing joy out of mundane things like this. But, it reminds me of when things were a bit simpler than this. I walk out of the library, my feet carrying me off to the vending machine. By the time I see it, I’m practically floating. Just like the night of the lunar eclipse, I put my coins in and make the selection. The machine hums and whirs and I clasp my hands together with excitement that I would never show another living soul. And then, nothing. No coffee in the vending port. Nothing… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you joking?” I grumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I press the confirmation button again, and again, and again… Nothing! Having watched these machines being installed, I think of taking it apart but a voice stops me. A voice I didn’t want to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Itomori-senpai?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m being toyed with,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think. I look down the hallway and sure enough, it’s Samezuka Ako. The girl who cut me. In her hands is something wrapped in pink cellophane. Internally, I curse the vending machine for stalling me enough to run into her. I don’t want to go back to the lab empty-handed, but I also do not want to talk to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, don’t be afraid of me. I… want to apologize to you,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I should kick the machine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you probably don’t want to see me, but please hear me out. I feel terrible about what I did to you and looking back on it, I shouldn’t have continued to bug you and I definitely shouldn’t have done what I did. I know it isn’t much, but I made these in my home economics class when I heard you had come back to school,” she says, holding out the pink thing for me to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s… fudge with candy hearts on it. Something a girl would give her crush when confessing. Moreover, her apology is lacking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t even say what you did,” I point out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s… that’s because it’s difficult,” she argues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You cut me. With a knife. Was that less difficult for you to do?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even remember the moment I did it! Honestly! I don’t know what came over me, but I’m really, truly sorry! I’m so ashamed of myself I didn’t even think I would be able to face you at all,” she cries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears spill from her eyes and once again, I find myself perturbed by her. She bows to me, her body forming a complete right angle. I watch, dumbfounded, as her tears drop to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please… forgive me,” she weeps.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I should kick the machine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still here, aren’t you?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her breath hitches and she looks up at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That should be evidence enough that I forgave you. You may be a foolish person, but I didn’t think you were malicious. If I did, I would have told Yoshimura as soon as it happened,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I square my foot up with the machine, kicking its side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, stop crying and go on about your life. You have better things to do than seek out my approval, don’t you?” I grumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another kick. She sniffles and straightens her posture. She takes a step back from me. Another kick. And then, she places the fudge on top of the vending machine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Itomori-senpai. You’re… a really kind person,” she says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another kick and my coffee finally drops, along with my jaw. I watch as she retreats back down the hall with lightened footsteps. I am… a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind</span>
  </em>
  <span> person? I grab the can, unable to even blink as her words loop through my mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kind person</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m so wrapped up in those words that I nearly miss the second can of coffee dropping. I look down at the vending port and sure enough, there’s another can waiting there. I must’ve knocked another errant can loose. I reach in and take it, turning to head back towards the library. By now, I’m sure Carla thinks I’m making a break for it. But, I stop halfway down the hall and look back at the machine. The fudge she made still sits on top of the machine lonesomely. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t need fudge…</span>
  </em>
  <span> And yet, I hurry back down the hall and snatch it off the vending machine before it can start melting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I return to the study lab, Carla is still reading his book though whatever softness he had has since departed. I approach the desk quietly and at first, turn to sit down. And then, I look at the cans in my hand. Without saying anything, I set the extra can in front of Carla and gingerly push it toward him with my finger. His gaze cuts to it and I draw my hand back, plopping down in my seat. He eyes the can with an intense look of suspicion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The machine gave me two,” I tell him in a small voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘EXEC vanilla espresso’,” he reads out, lifting the can into his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurs to me that Carla has never encountered canned coffee before. With the same intensity he had when I slid the can towards him, he examines it from top to bottom. I set my can down, along with the bag of fudge and crack the can open. Carla, almost like a child, replicates what I’ve done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my favorite kind,” I say, urging him to drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a swig first, that reliable flavor immediately elevating my mood. Then, Carla takes a sip and swallows it moments later. It’s impossible to gauge his reaction from his face, but I’m far too intrigued to let this go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you like it?” I ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s quiet for a moment, swishing around what’s left in the can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t dislike it. It’s sweet for coffee,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without realizing, I smile. This is undoubtedly the most enjoyable conversation I’ve held with Carla thus far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll finish it for you, then,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I reach for his can, he extends it out of my reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ll drink it all myself,” he states.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod and he takes another sip. I do the same and turn my head to watch the rain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you spoke to someone while you were gone,” Carla begins, his tone dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look down at the fudge, which is where his gaze happens to be as well. I hadn’t missed it, but the anger in his eyes returns like lightning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t intend to,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet, you bring back gifts from another man so shamelessly. You certainly are an impudent woman,” he chuckles, but there’s no amusement in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another man?” I echo, struggling to keep from laughing. “It was from a girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla’s brows lift with slight confusion and I sigh. I lay my hand out on the table, palm up so he can see the partially healed cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We met in the infirmary, didn’t we? The girl who gave me the fudge was apologizing to me for cutting my hand,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though his expression doesn’t soften, I’m sure he trusts the validity of my words. He takes the bag of fudge in his hands, inspecting it. It would be hard to imagine the kind of man that would make something so feminine-looking, I think. Suddenly, Carla tosses the fudge across the room and into a waste bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regardless, don’t accept gifts from other people,” he tells me.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s absurd,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I think but I bite my tongue. Carla takes another drink from his coffee and I try to keep from sulking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I actually wanted to eat that fudge… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Although, this coffee doesn’t displease me so I’ll reward you for today,” he states.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Reward? Oh, geez…</span>
  </em>
  <span> Carla stands up and I do the same, already prepared for where this is going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll allow you to choose the place I cleanse next,” he tells me. “So, where would you like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is no reward. Is this a test? A means of toying around with me, trying to get me to embarrass myself? By choosing, I’m essentially asking for my blood to be sucked. More than that, if this is just another way to make me lighten up so he can use me for what he wants… I can’t refuse. Not now, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hip,” I answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The upper half of my body has been bitten to hell and back already. Hopefully there’s enough weight on my hips to prevent this from being too painful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good choice,” Carla says lowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, I do what needs to be done. I lay back on the desk, lifting my shirt up enough to expose my belly. Carla tugs down my skirt until my hip is bared. I suppose I should be thankful he doesn’t rip off my skirt entirely, but I still feel as if I’m lacking dignity. He descends, his fangs sinking into my hip at once. Like always, he drinks voraciously and I have to hold onto the desk to keep from squirming. The pain isn’t terrible, but I can’t get used to having Carla between my legs. No matter how I look at him, he’s a man. It’s foreign and strange. He gulps and licks my skin before drinking more, making me shudder at the feeling of his cold tongue. It’s truly weird and ticklish. His large hands grip my waist and thigh, and I think if my father were to see me now he would be rolling in the family crypt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still… nothing changes…” he mutters, wiping my blood from his mouth with disgust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at his bite for a moment, looking as if he’s calculating something in his head. And then, he plants a kiss on my hip. I watch, stunned, unable to determine whether what I just saw was real or some hallucination. And then, he kisses my stomach. My entire body trembles, because no matter how much I bolster myself, I am not prepared for </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I have something to thank that vampire for. He left most of you alone… Your skin is purely white,” he whispers tenderly and kisses my rib. “It makes me want to pierce you with my fangs over and over again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brings himself up so that we are face-to-face and chuckles. My eyes are as wide as the moon. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck is happening?</span>
  </em>
  <span> All of the sudden, Carla became an entirely different person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm, your face is red… don’t tell me you enjoy something as simple as this,” he whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head, but he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing me to look at him directly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right…  You are a woman after all,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, without warning, without any signal, his lips graze mine. Softly at first, finding the most secure place, and then the kiss deepens. I ball my hands up into fists, squeezing my eyes shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mitsuna…” he breathes into my mouth, his voice rooting in my gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Endure it, play the part</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a cold voice in the back of my mind says. And, while it is unthinkable for me, I listen. I force my body to relax, though my legs are trembling and my stomach is doing flips. Following his lead, I return Carla’s kiss. He tastes like blood and coffee, his scent fills my lungs and strangles me. Yes, I am kissing the man who mere days ago strangled me! A demon! Every fiber of my being is screaming, but I override it. I let this continue because there is one thing that overrides every single thing in my life. Hatred. I am not a kind person. I have no kind intentions. Everything I do, everything that I am, is for the purpose of killing the demon who took everything from me, who ruined my life. And that demon is not Carla. So as Carla’s lips part from mine, I reel in the repulsion I feel and act bewitched by his kiss and the coffee and the rain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this is what you’re receptive to,” he chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fangs sink into another one of his bites on my neck, piercing through the bruise his hand left and he grunts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ever so slightly… the quality improved…” he says between swallows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I crane my neck back and look out of the window. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cleansing rain</span>
  </em>
  <span>… Fitting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Never attempt to win by force, what can be won by deception’,” I mumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla pulls his fangs from my skin and looks down at me. And then, smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Precisely.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Memory Lane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In an attempt to learn more about Carla, Mitsuna goes on a walk with him through the garden behind the Tsukinami Mansion. However, her questioning brings up painful memories for both of them.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>In the wake of immeasurable loss, I neglected certain emotions.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My tears withered away with time, as did the morality that questioned my pride.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because demons and humans cannot understand one another, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I felt no need to understand myself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Mitsuna Monologue</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>There are a number of things I choose not to remember, or even acknowledge. Hatred persists, though I don’t allow myself to peer at its source for too long. I don’t like to be bothered or to encounter situations that bring up painful memories. The companionships that my classmates pursued with me at first were cut down immediately because I felt I understood the world around me. What is born will die. What you grow attached to will leave. I avoided such things as friendships for that reason. So as not to be left, another bitter memory added to the darkness clouding my mind. It feels unnatural now to want to be liked. To do my hair and makeup for another person. I have to remind myself repeatedly that this is a necessary measure in order to achieve what I want.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stand in front of the mirror beside the wardrobe, deliberating between outfits. Perhaps I am being too obvious. I put my hair up, even though I hate having a thick ponytail that swings like a pendulum. I put a nice lipstick on, something blood-colored. My eyes sparkle with a glittery pink pigment that I’m failing to like on myself as much as I did on the model in the cosmetic store. Should I top this look off with a shirt that shows too much of my figure, I might look too obnoxious. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Still, is it the kind of thing that guys like?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I hurl myself onto my bed, groaning into my pillow. This is the most humiliated I’ve ever felt. It was a simple plan in theory. Spend time with Carla, make myself seem more likable and interested in his plan that he doesn’t know I know about. That way, when he inevitably finds out about what </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> plan is, he won’t interfere. Yet, executing this particular aspect of it is something out of my skill range.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sit up and look at my reflection. Even as a kid, I didn’t think much of romance. It was difficult to do surrounded by family. I only ever read about it or on the rare occasion, witnessed it between my parents or aunts and uncles. My father wasn’t a very affectionate person, unlike his brother, Souji. Souji and his wife Anna were the most egregious in terms of expressing love for one another. Dancing around with each other, constantly kissing and laughing together. It’s remarkable they only had one child, but after losing Yuri… I understand their feelings. I rise from the bed, trying to channel my aunt. Her expressions whenever she looked at my uncle. As if he was holding the moon in his hands, she always looked at him like he was a god. I attempt emulating her face, but it just comes off as creepy when I do it. Of all things to take after my father, this is by far the most disadvantageous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a wonder my father got my mother to fall in love with him. I sigh and pick out an outfit, already defeated. A turtleneck and dress will have to do. The dress doesn’t go past my knees at least so perhaps there lies some sex appeal in that… I shake my head fervently at the idea. It’s impossible for me to think of myself in a sexual manner. Yet, the very nature of what Carla wants with me requires me to seem open to the idea. Because, what he wants from me, if I’m right about all of this, is a child. On paper, I understand what goes into conceiving a child. But the feelings and sensations associated with it is something that I’m still ignorant to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Am I naive?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I turn and examine my look, wondering if I am really capable of doing what Carla is aiming for. Of course, I have no intention of actually following through with his plans once mine is achieved. Still, I must seem like I am which means I cannot show… how truly scared I am.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are a few things I still have yet to understand about Carla. As I leave the dungeon, I start adding what I’ve gathered so far. From the conclusions I’ve drawn, Carla’s goal is to have offspring to continue his line. It’s something visible in nature. When a lion takes over a pride, he prioritizes procreating. Also, since Shin mentioned something about them being locked up, I would assume their hatred of vampires has something to do with it. Perhaps an heir is to ensure a shift in power to their favor or maybe the two are unrelated and they want to prevent extinction. However, both assumptions are simply conjecture since I don’t know the history of the Makai or its political conditions if such a thing exists. So, that brings me to my objective for today: Discover what happened to the rest of the First Bloods and why having a child with me solves their problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shin also told me something about my heart being the reasoning for all of this, but as far as I know, there’s nothing special about my heart which puts a personal stake in learning more from Carla since I suspect this involves my ancestry. As I wander about the first floor hall, I’m careful of the expressions I make. I must appear calm, maybe even a little embarrassed. That much shouldn’t be difficult since walking around in a somewhat short dress seems like I’m asking for trouble. As I pass the dining room, I hear a fire crackling up ahead. With a relaxed pace, I approach the living room and sure enough, find Carla. He’s lounging back in an armchair by the fire, perusing what seems to be an art magazine. I gather up my courage and enter the room with a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carla-san, may I ask you something?” I begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns a page and gives an affirmative “hm”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering if I could go for a walk outside for a bit,” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lowers the magazine and looks up at me, his eyes sharpening as they meet mine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” he asks, his voice far more interrogative than I would like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I already finished my classwork and I don’t have anything new to read so… I just wanted to kill time,” I answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla’s eyes soften, just slightly, and lower back to the magazine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have Shin go with you,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knew he wouldn’t let me go by myself. But… how should I ask him to go with me instead? I cannot act cute, it would be too suspicious. If I were to act brazen and seductive like my aunt… No, he would know I’m up to something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you dissatisfied with something? Hurry up and go before I change my mind,” he warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-Actually,” I tread and swallow my pride. “I would rather go with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment his brow arches, I feel as if I’ve failed. He looks at me once more, this time scrutinizing every detail about me. I can feel my face heating up. I dislike this… immensely. My gaze is nailed to the floor and I’m not sure what does it, but Carla sighs and stands up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, just this once I will accompany you. Let’s go quickly,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following Carla outside, it’s difficult to even look in his direction. I come to his side and without either one of us talking, we begin walking to the left together. I can’t tell if he’s leading me or if I am leading him. Either way, I feel absolutely pathetic. We take a path around the mansion, heading into what appears to be a garden. There isn’t much growing and the flowers that remain are wilting. Our pace slows and I pluck a dying rose from its stem. With my finger, I stroke its petal and it crumbles away, carried away by the night breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How sad,” I mumble and drop the rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like flowers?” Carla asks me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head as we continue to walk, tracing the path slowly. I look up towards the sky, the pale moon perched in the blackness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flowers are pretty, but… they die too quickly,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is true. Although, the flowers in Banmaden seem to live longer than here,” Carla says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picks a rose off a bush and delicately probes its rotting leaf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is ‘Banmaden’?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Founders’ castle in Makai,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I watch as he spins the rose between his fingers at its stem, its desaturated hue suddenly becoming a rich ruby color. He stops spinning the flower and looks at it from various angles, seemingly satisfied. Meanwhile, I find myself entirely halted by the sight. Carla looks down at me, as I gaze wide-eyed at the rose in his hand that spontaneously came back to life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is that dumb expression?” he asks, completely oblivious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You made it bloom again,” I say, grazing one of its petals with my fingernail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla shakes his head and hands the rose to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s simple magic, even Shin can do that much,” he scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simple magic? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised since Shin regularly morphs into a wolf and goes running with his familiars. Though, I’ve never seen Carla use magic like this in front of me. I smell the rose and a sweet fragrance greets me. I shake my head as we press forward, trying to get back on track.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shin mentioned that you were all locked up for a while, were you in Banmaden during that time?” I ask Carla.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I may ask, why were you locked away in the first place?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is it something you need to know about?” he asks in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take pause, worried that I might have overstepped by asking too many questions. It seems even Carla has things that are difficult to talk about. Still… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since I end up spending a lot of time with you, it’s hard not to take an interest in your life. But, you are right. It isn’t something I have a need to know,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla grows quiet, resembling Shin somewhat with his thoughtful face. Though, Carla’s expression differs from Shin’s. Shin’s eyes hinted at being angry over thinking about what happened. But in Carla’s… there is no anger at all. There is a look of pained anguish that I wouldn’t expect from him. In fact, I would go as far as to say Carla would be devoid of that emotion entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the time, the powers of Makai were at war with one another. We were defeated and as a result, we were sealed to the confines of our castle for thousands of nights. Likely a few hundred years to a human,” he answers after some time.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Defeated in a war and sealed away?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Such a thing sounds outlandish. I can imagine being touted as the most powerful demons and being beaten in a war would hurt their pride. Given their treatment of Richter, perhaps it was the Vampire King who locked them away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That explains the lunar eclipse…” I mutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does?” Carla asks, his voice rough once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I was just thinking of why I was left alone during the lunar eclipse. Since vampires’ abilities wane as the moon does, a lunar eclipse would render them at a low enough power that they would have to retreat. It seems logical that the eclipse is what allowed you to break free… Right?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you suggesting that a lowly vampire was the one to lock us away in the first place?” he asks coldly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. It certainly made the most sense to me that it would be a vampire. Then again, I was only thinking in the realm of what I know. I have no idea about things like… Vibora or the other races. Suddenly, Carla snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You come to presumptions so easily, but in this case, you are right,” he tells me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I fold my arms, irritated at the fact that he made me second-guess myself. It seems Carla is amused since the air about him has become a bit lighter. I shrug off his teasing and we take a turn in the path, leading us further away from the mansion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is my turn to ask a question now,” he starts and my jaw clenches. “What is the affliction with your right eye?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh, since that question is honestly overdue. I could tell Carla the truth, that my eye shows me visions from time to time or warns me when I’m in a dangerous situation. Or that the damned thing has a mind of its own, something I should consider a gift. But I have no intention of telling him that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hideous… For some reason, my iris began breaking apart when I was younger and now, it’s a truly disgusting sight, isn’t it?” I say and I try to laugh it off. “Other than that, it’s not much more than a slight to my self-esteem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla nods and looks thoughtful for a moment. Internally, I recount all the times my cousins teased me about how grotesque my eye looked. Inadvertently, I’ve ended up hurting my own feelings. But Carla’s voice breaks up the budding self-pity. And the question he asks me stills my heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m also curious… What happened to your family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like that, I feel as if he has plunged his fist through my chest and gripped my heart. I suppose it’s a fair question since I asked about his family. Yet, to answer is no easy thing. I don’t like thinking of that day if I can help it, much less speak about it. Still, to pursue information I have to be willing to give information up, don’t I?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That… I left early one morning to go into the woods and when I got back... They were dead. Killed… Even my little cousins, who were just children…” I answer as briefly as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t be sure of what kind of face I’m making when I speak. Am I angry like Shin? Or am I pained like Carla? I don’t know. But heat rises in my throat and I feel as though I might throw up. I bite my cheek and gulp back whatever threatens to come up. And though I want to block the memories that stir, I can still picture their faces. Shocked and horrified, frozen even as they began to wither away like flowers. I look down at the rose and inhale the scent, trying to erase the smell of death that pervades my senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Today, I wanted to go outside… because I spent a year in the house with them like that,” I say quietly, staring into the spiralling petals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t let me leave. So I stayed in that house with him, as everyone wasted away into things I couldn’t recognize. He left me alone at times, for days and sometimes weeks. But I didn’t leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was scared to leave… Up until that point, I had never strayed too far from the house so I was too scared to run away, so that’s why…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My voice breaks and I realize that my eyes have grown wet. Before tears have the chance to fall, I dab my face with my sleeve and, like my father, I become stone. Erasing the pain that might show in my eyes, choking back the hurtful things I reminded myself of, I become dull. It is easier this way. Like this, I won’t falter. I sigh and glance at Carla, who has been listening with an equally sedate look. Just as I thought, demons cannot sympathize with the plight of someone else. This much is no surprise. That level of cruelty is what that bastard used to try and break me. I let him think he succeeded. But I abandoned the excruciating sadness and clung to one thing that kept me whole. Hatred. So the desire for retribution carries me through, regardless of what I encounter from this point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, you are fond of reading, right, Carla-san?” I question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla simply stares down at me and I furrow my brows, wondering why he’s suddenly gone silent. The way he’s looking at me… is imbued with an emotion I’m not familiar with. Like he’s pondering something, but in a way that unsettles me. I look away from him and we start walking back towards the mansion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reading was a way to kill time, when time was in abundance,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see, I remembered you were reading </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Prince</span>
  </em>
  <span> so I thought you might have taken it to heart and read a lot,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s true. In order to understand various things, I read all kinds of books. That way, I gained a better understanding of the human world and your thought process,” he continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father was that way. He would give my brother and I books to complete within 3 days, then ask us the meaning of each one. He wanted us to understand different principles and concepts. Hence why I became the Silver Genius at school. I’m no smarter than anyone else, just better read,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla chuckles and I pause, wondering if what I heard was real. Carla… laughed? Not in a cruel or derisive way. He simply laughed. He looks down at me and his face stiffens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dumb expression returns,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I scoff and he passes through the entrance, leaving me to follow behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s enough for today,” he tells me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he vanishes. I stand alone in the hallway, clutching the rose in my hand. As I wander back down to the dungeon, a foreign sensation invades my chest. It would seem I answered some of my questions. The reasoning for why I’m a suitable person to further their race with remains unknown, but I feel as though I have accomplished something. I return to my room, laying back on the bed with a heavy grunt. So far, I’ve learned the circumstances in which the First Bloods were locked away. In addition, I’ve learned more about Carla’s personality. He seems to hold matters of his family very personal. I’m sure demons care about their families in their own ways. Perhaps in that regard, we can understand one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like that, Mitsuna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sit up immediately, searching the room for the source of the voice. But… There's only me here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aim a little higher.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn, looking towards the bathroom door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s… Uncle Souji’s voice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Focus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I throw open the bathroom door and flip the light on, but… it isn’t the bathroom I see. I step through the doorway into the meadow outside of my house. As if I’m the audience to my own memory, I watch as my uncle guides me on how to use a bow and arrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s right… that was five years ago, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I think. The younger me draws the bowstring back and sends the arrow flying into a sandbag. My uncle cheers and I’m smiling, too. It’s strange to look at myself in this way… </span>
  <em>
    <span>My eyes…</span>
  </em>
  <span> I reach up towards my face, waving my hand in front of each of my eyes. I can only see out of my right eye. Which means… this is a vision. I shake my head, looking back toward the house. It doesn’t make any sense. When I was younger, I would see things that hadn’t happened yet. Not things that already took place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mitty!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn at the sound of my brother’s voice as he comes running out of the forest towards me. Just as I remember, Souji took that opportunity to go back inside where my aunt was waiting. That means this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> day. It was Itomori tradition that once a boy turned 13, he would have to learn how to use a weapon. Mitsuto chose swordsmanship and even though I wasn’t required to, I wanted to learn archery. My reflexes were too slow for sword fighting so I thought I would be better equipped with a ranged weapon. Still, Mitsuto and I would spar… On this particular day, however, it would be the last time we did such a thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” he asked, tossing me a sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up until then, we had used wooden swords. But, after training with our father, Mitsuto wanted to prove he was competent with a real one. I remember being nervous that day, but playing along. We started back to back, taking five steps away from each other before turning and beginning the fight. As always, Mitsuto started the attack. I did my best to parry his moves, but it was difficult to judge exactly where his swings were coming from. And, just as I recall, I failed to deflect his sword and he ended up slicing my rib. When I fell to the ground, the sword fell from his hands and clattered to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit! Mitty, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” he called out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back then, we were so close. I wouldn’t even let myself cry if it meant making him feel bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay, it just grazed me,” the younger me told him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could have been left there, but our father heard him yelling and came out of the house along with his brother and my mother. I tense up, seeing everyone rushing towards us. They can’t see the me who stands here before them and pass right through me. That strikes me harder than I would like. This is the first time I’ve been able to clearly see their faces in four years. And yet, it has to be this day that I’m shown. My mother is the first to dive down beside the younger me and access the wound. My father on the other hand… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stole my swords, Mitsuto?!” he roared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just as frightening as I remember it. Playing out just like from my memory, I watch as my father kicks my brother down, holding him to the ground by his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think you’re suddenly a man now, boy? Do you think you can suddenly wield a sword and become bigger than you are?” my father growled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father, it’s not that bad!” I cried out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s right, even then I still defended my brother. But it fell on deaf ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your sister lays on the ground bleeding because of your foolishness and she still comes to your aid. You are no man,” he continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yuuto, that’s enough!” my mother argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Yuuna. Boys must learn lessons in order to become men,” my father spoke, picking up the sword that Mitsuto had tossed to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was petrified. Mitsuto was always getting in trouble, but it seemed when I was involved, my father became especially cruel in his punishments. My father lined the blade up with Mitsuto’s ribs, trying to find the exact place where I had been cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mitsuna, what do you do when someone breaks your brother’s arm?” my father had asked me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t want to answer… but I feared I might make it worse if I didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You break that person’s arm in return,” I had answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now tell me, boy, in this case where your sister has been cut, what should I do to the transgresser?” my father asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My mother had covered my eyes. But standing here now, I see everything. The indignation in Mitsuto’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should cut me in return, Father,” Mitsuto answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gritted his teeth as our father sliced his rib. Like that, the scene fades away and I’m returned to the bathroom in the Tsukinami dungeon. My sight shifts solely to my left eye and my heart aches. I’m faced with my reflection, blood dripping down from beneath my eye patch. I pull it away and see that my right eye has changed once again. My iris has fractured once more, distorting even further. I back out of the bathroom and sit on the edge of my bed. After that day, Mitsuto avoided me. Even up until our mother’s birthday the following year, he hardly looked at me. He must have resented me then. Even if I had done the same things as him, our father would have forgiven me. Because our father thought I was gifted. Mitsuto… must have fallen behind in our father’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh and wipe the blood from my cheek before it can mingle with tears. There’s no use in dwelling on regrets of the past. After all, there is no way I can ever mend the relationship with my brother now. Our bond had been killed long before everyone else.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Wilting Innocence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mitsuna and Carla have developed a tense, but somehow pleasant coexistence. However, when Mitsuna's old classmate provokes the Founder, Carla and Mitsuna's true colors are revealed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahhh~! Finally caught up. As I'm writing this, I just got done uploading the eight previous chapters at once. We're nearing the second arc of the story soon, which is when a lot of stuff is going to be revealed and the major conflict will actually begin.  </p><p>My apologies if it seemed like things have been dragged out thus far. I really wanted to establish Mitsuna's character and her dynamic with Carla in a careful way so I hope I've executed it nicely for you. Enjoy~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>I must have called out for you numerous times.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Though, you were confined to my nightmares.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Endlessly reaching out into the darkness,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was only emptiness.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Mitsuna Monologue</b>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It’s a strange thing, this feigned companionship with Carla. Most of our shared school days are spent in silence. When he wants to proceed with the purification, I obediently allow it. Since the walk through the garden, he hasn’t spoken much about anything else. On that note, I hesitate to ask for anything more. This dynamic is tenuous. If I were to press further, I might be flying too close to the sun. And, for my own reasons, I haven’t had the drive to uncover anything more over the past week. Every day, some new memory dredges up and only serves to narrow my focus. Rather than investigating Carla further, I’ve been silently making preparations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla typically leaves me alone in the study lab for an hour or so, giving me ample time to start putting things in place. First things first, I allocated money towards our sports festival and scheduled it two weeks from now. Then, I handed off the task to the Bronze Genius, Hanamura. The library’s ventilation schematics should be arriving around the time of the sports festival as well. Once I have those, I can move into the next phase of operations. I’m being as subtle as possible, so as to not alert Carla or any of that bastard’s spies. Namely Tetsuro, from my homeroom. I’ve passed him on occasion in the hallway with Carla. He always looks like he has something to say, but never the courage. It would be best, I think, if he just left matters to reporting my whereabouts back to that guy and leaving me alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final school bell rings and I begin collecting my things. Carla stands up and tucks his book under his arm without a word. I quickly come to his side before he begins walking. I can’t help thinking of how well-trained I must seem. I wonder what Carla thinks of me. Am I the proper toy he wanted to mold me into? But I digress, after all, it doesn’t matter what his opinion of me is. As long as he doesn’t interfere, he’s free to think as he likes. He and I are surprisingly similar in that regard. Though I do my best to seem like I’m falling for his fake-hearted charms, I know at the end of the day he doesn’t care about me at all. We leave the study lab and the library, heading down toward the school lawn to meet with Shin. But a voice suddenly calls out right before we can reach the stairwell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mitsuna-san!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can barely hazard a glance behind me before I feel a hand clasp around my left one. I catch Carla’s face as I’m yanked backward. When I look up at the person who has grabbed me, I’m not sure who is more livid, me or Carla. Tetsuro towers above me, wearing the new baseball uniform that I ordered. His blonde hair is flicking out from under his baseball cap and I think, </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s a horrible outfit to die in</span>
  </em>
  <span>. When he notices my expression, he lets go of me and quickly rubs the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry… I just got a little excited since I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to you in so long,” he mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a step back from him, knowing it would worsen Carla’s mood if I were to engage. Even without looking or hearing his voice, the air around Carla becomes icy and intense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… Anyway, tonight’s that baseball game I was telling you about a couple weeks ago. Just wanted to make sure I was still going to see you there,” Tetsuro says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She isn’t going,” Carla states without missing a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tetsuro’s face flushes red and his gaze alternates between Carla and me. I brace myself and look back at Carla, though the expression on his face surprises me. Outwardly, he doesn’t look angry. He seems entirely calm, even if his voice is a bit frightening. Perhaps it’s because Tetsuro is a human that Carla is like this. If the one who grabbed me was a vampire, I’m sure Carla would behave differently. Tetsuro doesn’t even remotely register as a threat. And for that reason, he shouldn’t push his luck. When I look back at Tetsuro, his expression has wavered. The gentle, albeit absent-mindedly, look he always has is gone. The one who’s angry now… is him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think she can answer for herself,” he retorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You idiot </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what I want to scream out. He could walk away, count his blessings and go. He doesn’t know any better. Even if he’s aligned himself with that bastard, there’s no way he would knowingly provoke someone like Carla. Before Carla can react, I step forward and try to amend this situation before it can escalate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carla-san is right, I’m not going. There’s no need to argue, you should go away now,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Tetsuro can finish, I’ve already snapped. The words come tumbling out like boulders down a steep incline. I don’t know why my heart is racing. Or why I so desperately want to save this guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like you. If your goal is to get me to like you, pestering me isn’t the way to do it. So for your own sake, walk away and never speak to me again,” I hiss at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face darkens as his mouth falls open before clamping shut. There’s a wounded look in his eyes, but as I told him to do, he retreats back down the hall. I watch him disappear around a corner and sigh, closing my eyes and turning back towards Carla. I feel some relief, knowing that Carla let Tetsuro walk away physically unharmed. But when I open my eyes, Carla’s eyes have sharpened and all the anger he spared Tetsuro is now aimed at me. In a blink, I’m jerked down the hall and into a dark, tight space. I don’t even have time to ask why before Carla bites down on my forefinger. I gasp, feeling the tip of his fang scrape at my bone. Perhaps it’s because I can’t see anything that the pain is so amplified. Or maybe Carla is using more force than normal. Reflexively, I try to pull my hand away but he only tightens his jaw further and it feels as if my finger will break into pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, stop…” I whimper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he growls and moves his fangs to the pad of my thumb.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why my hand?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I startle myself with the realization that the hand Carla is biting is the one Tetsuro touched. I faintly wonder if this has something to do with the purification, but that doesn’t make sense. Even if Tetsuro is involved with a vampire, he isn’t one. His touch was warm. So he shouldn’t be impure at all. And yet, Carla is sucking my blood in a rage that makes me grateful I can’t see his face. I bite my cheek and try to suffer through his bites but each one becomes more excruciating than the last. I lean back, supporting my weight against a wall or door or something. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Endure it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I tell myself as I try to remain still. I can taste blood spurt up in my mouth and I realize that I’ve bitten a hole in my cheek. Carla sniffs and then relents for a moment, just a moment. I can feel his eyes on my face and I hear him chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stopped resisting,” he notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pause from probing the bitten flesh of my inner cheek with my tongue and try to think of a proper answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t this… purification?” I ask, though my voice is far weaker than I care for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla hums and I can feel his gloved thumb graze over my cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would seem you’ve become so docile, taking the purification obediently like this. However, I have to wonder if you’re simply behaving this way so I don’t go after that human who thought it would be wise to defend your honor against me,” he snarls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head, but… part of me is afraid that there may be some truth to that. It isn’t as if Tetsuro and I were ever friends. We were classmates, sure. But if anything, I thought him to be no different than anyone else. Moreover, since he was involved with that bastard, I couldn’t see him in a positive light even if I tried. But his retreating figure plays over in my mind and I wonder why I stepped in front of Carla and told him to go. It should be of no consequence to me what happens to him. But… I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt or end up dead. Not because of me, or because of what that bastard got them wrapped in. I don’t consider Tetsuro a friend, I don’t know him well if at all. If anything, he’s a liability. But, I would really hate it if he died on my account. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want anyone to get hurt for me, it’s unnecessary,” I say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not sure what to make of the silence that follows. I’m not sure if Carla is receiving my words as I mean them. It would do more harm than good if he thought I was protecting Tetsuro out of some kindred affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you would willingly take a punishment in his stead, then?” Carla asks, carefully weaving his words in a manner to entrap me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, I’m in no mood to have Carla’s ill-thoughts turned on me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If the punishment is purification, I don’t mind it. I want to be cleansed,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence permeates the tense air once more and as I awkwardly shift around, I can feel just how small of a space Carla has pulled me into. It must be a storage room of some sort, but it’s small enough to press Carla’s body into mine enough that we’re chest to chest. Or, I suppose my face to his chest. I look up to where I think his face is and wait for some kind of response. Will I be punished further? Or will he let things go here? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he mutters in a husky voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abruptly, my body is being raised up as I’m pinned against the wall. I can feel Carla’s breath directly on my face and, unsure of what to do with my legs, I end up placing my knees on either side of his hips. This is a compromising position to say the least and it is one that I would like to escape from at the nearest opportunity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since you enjoy the feeling of fangs puncturing you, I will give it to you over and over again. Until the purification is completed right here,” Carla growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s still mad!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I try desperately not to panic as my shirt is ripped open entirely. Carla bites into the center of my chest, sucking my blood out with the force of a typhoon. Does he really intend to drink to the point of purification right here? If he does that… I might really die!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems I have not properly trained you enough since you still go looking out for other men,” he says as he moves on to pierce my stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I clasp my hand over my mouth, welling up the cries of pain that threaten to spill out. Right as it seemed I was coming to a place of peace with Carla, monotonous as it was, he’s doing this. I might have miscalculated. But this much rage is senseless to me. Why is he behaving this way? Why did that run-in with Tetsuro cause him to react in this way? Even though I said all of the right things, why is he punishing me like this? Is it simply anger… or jealousy? No, no… Perhaps this is desperation. Maybe he’s running out of time and because of that, he’s being awful like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What am I doing?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I stop, paralyzed by my own errant thoughts. Why am I trying to understand Carla? Why am I trying to rationalize him? I should know very well by now that he and I will never empathize with one another, as much as we might fake it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… You’re bleeding from somewhere else?” he muses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m lowered slightly and I can feel his lips brush against mine. I shudder at the sensation as his tongue slides into my mouth forcefully. He licks my bitten cheek and begins kissing me, or something that resembles kissing. My blood is being sucked out of my mouth in a cold and vile way. Surely he can sense my repulsion because just then, he softens his touch and kisses me with a sick passion. When the kiss breaks, I can feel a string of saliva connecting my lips to his. It quivers like a cobweb every time I inhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little by little, as I ravage you in this way, the taste becomes sweeter. Perhaps it is in your nature to enjoy being so thoroughly dominated,” he breathes and kisses me again. His fangs prick my bottom lip and he chuckles. “Your body and blood has already begun to surrender to me. It would be wise if your mind would follow suit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I haven’t… ever felt so violated before. His cold touch radiates over my exposed skin and the feeling of his lips against mine is dizzying. There is no pleasure to be found in this, I think. There is no part of me that enjoys being bruised with kisses or having my blood drank mercilessly. I cannot imagine reaching a point where I ever yearn for this sensation. Should a time like that come, surely my mind will already be gone. Carla urges me to give up, to fall into this spiral of madness where I’m no longer a person. And for a moment, at the precipice of doing so, I remember how vividly pungent the smell of my family’s blood was. I remember the promise I made, soaked in that blood. And I continue to endure. Because it’s entirely possible my mind was already broken then. That now, mechanically, I suffer through this abuse and degradation without caring. Because I am already broken, revenge is all I have left to care about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla’s groan brings me back to reality as I’m suddenly dropped. My feet crash to the floor and Carla falls against me without saying anything. His breathing is labored and something wet and cold drips onto my stomach. Even as I try to push him away, he doesn’t respond or resist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s unconscious!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Immediately, I perk up because that means I can easily make a break for it. I might encounter Shin, but then he’ll find out what’s wrong with Carla and I won’t have to deal with Carla anymore. I could likely have an easier time getting around Shin to complete my plan. I could kill that guy and Shin may never be the wiser. I turn eagerly, searching for a door knob somewhere. When I find it and open the door, I dart out buttoning up my shirt along the way. As I rush toward the stairwell, I hear a loud thud. And though I shouldn’t stop, I do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look back, seeing Carla face-down on the floor with a pool of blood emerging from his abdomen. I remind myself that my blood is probably intermingled with his. I remind myself I should not give a damn about him. He stands in my way more than anything else. There should be no dilemma… Unless, of course, I were to help him. To guard his secret… may prove to benefit me. The hallways are empty so I could bring him to the infirmary. The nurse should be long gone by now. I may be able to get a better look at his wound as well and finally gain an upper hand. And, should he recover from this somehow, if I simply ran away that would go against the role I’ve been trying to play. So I walk back toward him and roll him onto his back. His eyes crack open and he grits his teeth, sweat dampening his long hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t…” he grimaces. “Don’t touch me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not really in a position to tell me what to do right now, so… hush,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I must admit, the sight of him being so helpless is a brilliant reward for all I’ve gone through lately. He chokes back grunts of pain as I help him to his feet. He is significantly heavier than I thought someone as slender as him would be, but I manage to leverage him with his arm over my shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why… are you doing this?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because… I felt like it,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a little, I let my mask crack a bit. With Carla in a weakened state, it satiates me to be more like myself. We travel down the hall in a disorderly stride and I help him into the infirmary. As gently as I can manage, I lay him down on one of the cots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First things first, let’s see what we’re dealing with,” I say and try to bridle my enthusiasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I reach toward the blood-soaked spot on his shirt, he feebly grasps my wrists. He looks up at me with a wobbling head, looking positively out of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, don’t…” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, what I see won’t leave this room… So, let me help you a little, okay?” I say softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though I could use some bandages myself, I insistently try to open up his shirt. Though he seems revolted, he allows me to do so. And there it is, the source of the Founder King’s weakness. A blotch of mangled purple and black skin, eating away at his gut. My lips part and a gasp escapes before I realize and Carla glares daggers at me. Looking at his exposed torso, there’s a number of wounds that seem unrelated to his major ailment. Bruises, scars, burns… Something, or someone, has been hurting him for quite a long time it seems. But, I don’t let my gaze linger for long. I quickly turn to the supply cabinet. I doubt any topical ointment would help him so the best I can do is clean up the wound and dress it a bit. He was sweating quite a bit as well so a cold wash cloth would help as well. I fix together the supplies I need and return to his side. He stares at me with a distrustful eye, almost as if he thinks I’ve hidden a knife somewhere in the bandages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I ignore the look he gives me and lift him into a sitting position to remove his shirt and blazer. He grumbles, wincing as I lay him back down. I brush his bangs aside and place the cold cloth on his forehead before pulling over the nurse’s stool to sit down. Then, I turn my attention to his abdomen. With forceps and some cotton pads, I approach the ugly wound that also seems to be glaring at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go,” I sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With as light of a touch as I can manage, I dab up some of the blood that oozes from the wound. Like a good patient, Carla doesn’t complain and simply sits through the pain. The distrust in his eyes melts away and leaves only confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why… are you helping me?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, Carla’s voice sounds entirely sincere. The puzzled expression on his face is legitimate. The frightening and emotionless king that I’ve been dealing with doesn’t seem to be present at the moment. With renewed eyes, I no longer see Carla as someone to fear. But, it would be poor judgment to absolve that fear entirely. Wounded or not, he can still wreak havoc on me. I shrug at his question and continue cleaning up his injury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know… I’m fully aware that I should have run. Maybe even exposed you to your brother. That kind of revenge would be justified, right? Considering everything you’ve done to me…” I say and cut him a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no shame on his face, no remorse whatsoever, not that I expected it. But there is a pensive light in his eyes, as if he is really considering the alternative situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, what good would that do? It’s not like I have anything to go running back to… You’re asking why… Now that I think about it, the answer is simple,” I say with a giggle. “I’m a prideful bitch at heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla seems a bit taken aback by my word choice. But it’s true. All things considered, calling myself a prideful bitch is about as self-aware as I can be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The person who broke my mind… is not you, Carla-san. So getting revenge on you is meaningless to me, no matter what you do. The one who hurt my pride in the first place isn’t you,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As more and more of his blood is sopped up, I can clearly see what appears to be a stab wound. I might suture it if I didn’t think the skin would just dissolve further. For now, bandages will have to do. As I dress Carla’s wound, he continues to stare at me with his thoughtful look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There, all done,” I say, clasping my hands together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla sits up a bit, in a bit of a healthier disposition than moments before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve become quite impudent, haven’t you?” he murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shrug once more and stand up. I dispose of the bloodied materials and wash my hands carefully while Carla looks over his stained uniform. It’s okay if I’m not understood. Demons and humans aren’t meant to understand one another, or even coexist for that matter. As I walk back over to Carla, he grazes the bandages with his fingers. His eyes are glazed over and unfocused, almost like he’s remembering something. I look once more at all the scars on his body and wonder what caused them. For someone so big and strong, it must have been caused by someone even more fearsome. Perhaps… his father. For some reason, thinking so reminds me of my own father. How he disciplined Mitsuto… I sigh and sit at Carla’s side once more. We cannot understand one another, we can only deceive one another. But, why does looking at Carla now make my heart hurt? Am I getting weaker?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Am I truly okay?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's called having emotions, Mitsuna. It's perfectly normal.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Cost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carla struggles with conflicting feelings towards Mitsuna, along with a troubling ghost of the past.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Say whaaaaat??? A chapter from Carla's perspective? I thought it would be a nice change of pace for the tenth chapter to be told from Carla's point of view, since he's been a jerk this whole time. This chapter is short and not absolutely essential to the overall narrative of the story, but I thought it would be a nice break for you readers to read something other than Mitsuna's scheming.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>As the woman dressed my wounds,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was reminded of a time when my mother would do the same.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I remembered my mother’s crying face as she cursed my father.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I was relieved when this human woman showed me nothing,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But indifference.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Carla’s Monologue</b>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>My reflection becomes more disgraceful as the nights pass. I fuss with the bandages that woman put on me, though my mind is somewhere else entirely. It is unlike me to be distracted, though I suppose that’s par for the course recently. Fate is a cruel mistress, so cruel it’s almost humorous. Out of all women in the conceivable universe, the one I need is her. I turn away from the mirror in her room, looking back at her sleeping form on the bed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m halfway there,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I tell myself. Admittedly, when I began the purification, I feared that it would be a hopeless endeavor. It seemed, no matter how intensely or frequently I drank her tainted blood, she would not relent. It was infuriating from every angle. Her dull expression was taunting me, though I’m sure her intentions were something else entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I button up my shirt and sit at the foot of the bed, met with my reflection once more. It hasn’t spread as rapidly lately, this damned Endzeit. However, I’m not sure how much longer I can possibly keep it a secret from Shin. This woman knows of it which could be more troublesome than anything, yet I can’t bring myself to feel any apprehension. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The one who hurt her pride isn’t me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That thought circles around in my mind and though it should have no bearing on my actions, I find myself staring at her sleeping face. When she’s sleeping, that wall guarding her true emotions crumbles away. She looks like a child, terrified of her own nightmares. Her breath hitches and she whimpers like a wounded animal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always, she always cries for her mother. She claws at her pillow as if desperately trying to grasp something. I sigh and tug her covers away, shaking her shoulder. She doesn’t wake up, but her mouth falls open slightly. An inky, dark red color trickles from the corner of her lips and I furrow my brows. I lean closer to her, turning her on her back. Blooming on her neck with an intense speed are dark purple bruises. Familiar… bruises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s impossible…” I exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tear open her shirt and expose her body. All over her formerly pristine white skin are bruises. Symptoms… of Endzeit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lift her into my arms, trying to rouse her. There is no way that she could have contracted Endzeit from me! It’s passed through blood, yes, but she’s a human! Even with the bites I left on her hand, coming in contact with my blood should not have affected her! Is it because she has the heart of that woman? The daughter of the Demon King and my aunt, is it her blood that is susceptible to the Endzeit? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oi! Oi! Open your eyes! Woman!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More blood pours from her mouth, from her eyes, her ears… There’s absolutely no way that I infected her! She cannot be dying, not now, not when I’m so close! </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is your punishment</span>
  </em>
  <span>. My father’s voice rings out through my head and I know it’s hopeless. It was for the sake of the Founders that I did what I did… for my mother! </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is your punishment.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I took this woman to save our race because I’m king, because it is my duty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is your punishment, usurper.</span>
  </em>
  <span> There was no other way, there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> no other way. I cannot bear for us to meet such a contemptible fate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Usurper.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carla-san.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice calls to me and the grotesque scene in front of my eyes fades to nothing. Had it all been a nightmare? I’m incredibly relieved when I open my eyes and find that to be the case. Rather than being in her room, we’re in mine. She trades the lukewarm cloth on my forehead out with a fresh cold one and sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You finally woke up…” she says before turning away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I begin to sit up, perturbed to find her nursing me, but pain resounds throughout my body. I lay back down and she gently presses ice to my wounds. I watch as she toils away with me, a mindful expression on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does this help?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s utterly undignified for me to be cared for by such a low species. Though… the cooling feeling spreading over my skin is pleasant enough for me to forgive her transgressions. I give her a nod and she returns a small, crooked smile before letting the ice sit. It seems I was wrong about my initial impression of her. I don’t understand her at all. She doesn’t resist the purification, she even seeks me out at times. While that is beneficial to me, I don’t doubt that she has another motivation lurking beneath the surface. Yet, with a tender touch, she’s taking care of me even though her expression would suggest she doesn’t care about me one way or the other. She tucks her dark hair behind her ear and her numerous piercings catch the dim light of the room. As the ice melts away, she dabs it up and dresses me in fresh bandages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at me, her head tilting to the side as if she has something to ask. But she turns away without a word. Perhaps I would not be so irritated by her if she simply spoke her mind now and then. After all, it’s no fun plucking the feathers of a bird who does it to themselves. At times, it’s like toying with a corpse. She seems to have little to no response to pain. Surely that’s why she squirmed when I gave her pleasure instead. If I view it in that way, it’s possible pleasure is not something she can prepare herself for. The virus affecting her blood seems to be lured out with sweet things such as whispers and caresses. Kissing her a bit before sucking her blood appears to accelerate the purification, as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, something about this woman bothers me immensely. As far as appearance, with the exception of that eye of hers, she isn’t an unattractive woman by any means. I watch her go about my room, cleaning up stray bandages and cloths. She has a full figure despite her petite frame and the length of her hair is comparable to what I might have seen on a Founder woman. Talking and flirting with her isn’t unenjoyable for me, either. I’m closer to achieving my most earnest goal every day, but there is some sense of apprehension that looms over me. Some inexplicable foreboding… The image of her covered in bruises flashes in my mind and I sigh. If that nightmare were to be reality, it would be the absolute worst case scenario. The thought that some extension of my father’s punishment might prevent me from ensuring the next generation of Founders is the only thing that makes me hesitate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost poetic in a way. For my act of treason, I will suffer the same fate he did. My hands, until the day this disease takes me, will be stained with his blood. Even though I had to do what I did, why does it still torment me to this day? Sentimentality is for weaklings, as are regrets. Regardless of how I obtained the crown, I am still the Founder King. Such emotions are only a detriment to me. This woman… could also be a detriment. The liability she poses cannot be overlooked either. Without fail, regardless of her thoughts and motivations, I will bear a child with her. It is what I’ve sworn to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I close my eyes, centering my thoughts solely on what must be done. I must cleanse that woman’s blood and have a child. Then, what happens to me afterward will happen. I will not fight against fate any longer after my wish is fulfilled. I will not struggle. After this long existence, I am tired. When the time is finally right, I will die a proud king.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, go back to your room now,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I do not need to be doted on by some lowly human woman. Nor do I need her to do something as useless as dress my wounds. I open my eyes as she approaches the bed. Her gaze is glazed over, as if she’s looking through fog. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mean to ignore me, woman? I said leave,” I say, more forcefully this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The issue with acts of kindness is that she will no longer take me seriously. If she begins to think of me as someone sweet, she will start acting on her own accord. She’s nothing more than a container, a means for the Founders to live on. I don’t need her to think. Yet, she stands at my bedside and her eye bores a hole into my gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry… I was just thinking about something,” she mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gaze shifts to my face and I feel even more frustrated. In this condition, I cannot be as intimidating as I like. The longer she stares at me, I can see the fear in her eyes draining away. Although, it’s possible that fear was never there to begin with. I noticed it before, in the infirmary,  that her demeanor seemed to change ever so slightly. She talked to me with more fervor, almost as if without a cause to conceal it, she showed her true nature. Even now, looking back into her amber eye, I can see her mind working. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spit it out, whatever it is you’re thinking about,” I growl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She arches her brow at me, another transgression to add to the ever-growing list. Then she sighs and looks out the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking that you are very strong,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her deadpan delivery is enough to make my eyes widen, taken aback by her words. Is this blatant flattery? What is she aiming towards by saying that? Is she attempting to gain favor with me? It’s because of that look in her eye that I’m becoming so irritated with her. No matter how sincere her voice is, it always seems duplicitous. Yet, somehow, as she looks at me now her expression softens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dealing with this alone and not showing any signs of weakness, I was just thinking that it’s an admirable thing,” she continues. “Then again, maybe that’s a normal thing for a First Blood, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lower my eyes to her hands as she fidgets with her chipped thumbnail. Her fingers are restless as she gnaws on her lip. Is this a sign of anxiety? Is she nervous saying these kinds of things to me? Or perhaps she has the skill to deceive with her body as well?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any weakness… is unthinkable for me,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods, internalizing my words with a pensive hum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for overstaying my welcome, that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll go now,” she mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without another word, she leaves the room. I sense her presence drift farther away as she heads back to the dungeon. I truly… do not understand her. Helping me like this, even though she admitted that she feels revenge against me would be justified. Still, tending to me when there is no clear advantage for her and then paying me a compliment is something strange to me. The most obvious explanation would be that she means to manipulate me. Is it that she wants to be let go? To be returned to that vampire of hers? Or maybe she wants to go to that human that confronted me? Thinking about that, I wonder why I reacted the way I did. Surely, it’s because I am so close to completing the purification that I am on edge about her becoming tainted again. Surely… </span>
</p><p>
  <b>☆ A Long Time Ago ☆</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>My grip on the sword’s hilt tightens, my jaw clenched with enough force to crack my molars. I direct the blade to my father’s pulsating jugular. I’ve already gone too far. From this point, I can never go back. What I’m doing will never be forgiven. But, it is okay because this is what I’ve already decided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know exactly what I’m doing, Father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wretched-! You dare to draw a sword on your king?!” he roars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because this is what has been asked of me, for the sake of the Founders, I must… cut down this king. At all costs, I must save us! Even if it means killing my father… because this is what was asked of me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever it takes, Father… I will ensure the future of our race. Even if that future does not include you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I will surely be punished for this act. Even if it is the right thing, the universe will not allow me to revel. This victory will be bitter regardless. But, I’ve already made my mind up. For the promise of a future, I will commit this unforgivable sin.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think I speak for all of us when I say, Giesbach is trash.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Golden Genius returns to Nishikami Academy, forcing Mitsuna to confront an unfortunate truth about herself.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter was hard to write... for a number of reasons. I haven't gone through to edit it fully so if there's any mistakes, please bear with me. We finally learn who is responsible for the death of Mitsuna's family and even though I already knew from the start, it was surprisingly hard to get out in a manner that felt right.</p><p>That being said, read at your own discretion as always and enjoy! There's a scene with Carla and Mitsuna at the end so at least you'll be able to look forward to that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>For four years, I have waited patiently.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Biding my time, I conceived a plan in countless blood-soaked nights.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The moment I would taste revenge,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was the only reason to continue living.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Mitsuna Monologue</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When I was 13, on the night of my father’s birthday, he brought me into his study. He told me that he had something very important to show me. He shuffled some books around on the shelves and revealed to me a secret compartment embedded in the wall. With a small silver key, he unlocked it and pulled out something wrapped in a linen cloth. He turned to me and said that it was very important that I never touch it until I turned 18. He carefully pulled away the cloth and in his hands, he held out a golden compass. I still remember how the darkness of his study was immediately brightened by the compass. Like an ember of a fire, it glowed fiercely. Radiating from it was some kind of aura that I didn’t quite understand. The only thing I could compare it to was magic. I wondered why my father had such a thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told me that the compass was crafted by my great-great-grandfather, Itomori Tomoyuki, who had brought the Itomori family to Transylvania from Japan in the late 1800s. Tomoyuki was something of a legend amongst us, a name that inspired respect. My father had inherited many of his possessions, but nothing was more precious than Tomoyuki’s compass. Father told me that the compass was something passed on to the eldest son of each generation, but no one other than Tomoyuki had been able to properly use it. That’s when my father trusted me with another secret. He believed that I was the one meant to inherit the compass after him, not Mitsuto. Though Mitsuto and I were twins and he was technically the elder between us, my father intended to give me the compass when I came of age.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he wrapped the compass back in the cloth and locked it in the compartment where it should have been hidden all this time. However, when I went to retrieve the compass four years ago, it was already gone. My family had many wonderful and expensive things. Fine china, first-edition books, tableware made of true silver and gold. But to my father, that compass was the most valuable thing. And it dawned me then… The reason why my entire family was slaughtered was for the sake of stealing that compass. So I, with my own two hands, will most definitely…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-to-mori-senpai~!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh… Hanamura.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can hear his voice chirp as soon as he enters the library. He practically sings my name as he throws the study lab door open and I turn away from the window to face him. Luckily, Carla is off doing whatever he does so I’m alone for the time being Still, I stop Hanamura from passing the door’s threshold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” I ask, holding my hand out to stop him from skipping over for a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of all the students here, Hanamura is by far the most prolific in showering me in unwanted affection. His mop of shaggy brown hair seems to droop along with his shoulders as he pouts at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So cold, Itomori-senpai! Will you ever accept my love?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. What do you want?” I ask once more, folding my arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine,” he sighs and holds out a piece of neon pink paper that makes my eyes burn. “The Sports Festival is officially on, just like you asked~! We’ve got track-and-field, basketball, wrestling, soccer, and horseback archery just for you! Oh, and I took care of the fireworks display you wanted as well! Aren’t I the best?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though the thought of giving Hanamura a compliment is nauseating, I must say he’s outdone himself. I take the piece of paper out of his hand and see a rather-professional graphic of students in P.E. uniforms printed out on it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nishikami Academy’s Annual Sports Festival</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I clutch the flyer tightly, relieved to see that even while I wasn’t able to do anything directly it still came out how I wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good work, Hanamura,” I mumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you~! I worked really hard on it. This is going to be your last sports festival before you graduate so I wanted it to be perfect. And Mr. Golden Genius told me to make it special for you, too,” Hanamura says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that instant, my torn thumbnail stabs through the flyer. Hanamura gasps, as if I’ve just slapped him across the face, but I don’t care. I slowly look up at his face, struggling to keep my hands from trembling violently. I can hear my heart beating against my eardrums… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve spoken to him?” I ask, even my voice is quivering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just a little while ago I bumped into him. He said he was going to do the announcements today,” Hanamura says, completely oblivious as to why this is a horrible thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s back… he’s in the school… </span>
  </em>
  <span>I anticipated he’d return, no, I counted on it. But this soon, out of nowhere? Why would he risk it? I may know about Carla’s condition, but he certainly doesn’t. He could get killed waltzing in here. He should know that, so why right now is he…? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything okay, Itomori-senpai? You look a little green,” Hanamura asks in his puppy-ish tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is a provocation. A reminder that he isn’t going to just surrender me to the First Bloods without a fight. And it’s a message to me as well. So I swallow back the bile that had been collecting in the back of my throat and look at Hanamura directly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay, thank you for stopping by. And if you see him again, will you tell him that I miss him?” I ask, doing my best to sell a sweet voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two are a little weird, you know,” Hanamura sighs, taking back the flyer. “The broadcasting room is just across the library, you could tell him yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I’m shy, you know,” I mumble, turning away from Hanamura with a forced blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw~! You really do have a cute side! Alright, I’ll let him know A-S-A-P~!” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Hanamura strides right out of the study lab and leaves me alone once more. As soon as he’s out of sight, I drop the shy smile. Right now… I’m pissed. I close the lab door and turn the lock, keeping my eyes trained on the small square window on the door. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The broadcasting room is just across the library</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Our library is split into three levels, yet there’s an open space in the very center that allows me to look at the other side of the third floor with ease. The broadcasting room is directly opposite this study lab. Sure enough, the broadcasting room’s windows have their blinds drawn, but the lights within the room paint a familiar silhouette. He’s definitely inside. The “on-air” sign flickers once, twice, like a red beacon. The heart beat that seemed to deafen me just a little ago is now completely silent. The PA speaker in the study lab crackles, shaking some dust free, and he clears his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, Nishikami Academy! It’s been such a long time hasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> That arrogant tone… He never changes. I know him, even down to his mannerisms. Right now, he’s smirking as he speaks into the microphone. He knows me, he knows I’m watching. Even with this large expanse dividing us, his coldness still reaches me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like to apologize to this lovely student body for being gone so long. My trip abroad went on longer than expected, but I took the earliest opportunity to return to you. Lucky for me, you’ve all been doing amazing. Our collective grade point average is at an all time high so give yourselves a round of applause. And even in my absence, the Nishikami Foxes won their game against Ryoutei Academy so be sure to congratulate the team when you see them today!” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now, he’s mocking me like he did that day. As he cut down everything dear to me, he smiled and laughed. He looked down on me, broke my pride like a piece of glass. He spurred me, dared me, to try to fight him. To run away, to escape. And because of my own fear, I couldn’t do it. Because of fear, I stayed in that house with him for a year. I stayed, helplessly witnessing the decay of my family. Witnessed parasites and scavengers come to claim their bodies for days, weeks… Because of fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m also very pleased to announce that our immensely capable Silver Genius has decided to use our extracurricular funds to throw the annual Nishikami Sports Festival. And since it’s going to be hers and my last sports festival here, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can no longer be afraid of him… No longer… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the final thing I’d like to say before I go, I’m so incredibly proud of our Silver Genius, Mitsuna. Many of you don’t know this about her, but there’s nothing she can’t do. When she sets her mind to something, she doesn’t give up until she gets it. She’s kind of scary like that, as I’m sure most of you know. And I can only speak for myself, but I can’t wait to see what she does in the future! So let’s cheer her on, everybody!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The “on-air” light blinks off and the PA system crackles once more before a dead silence fills the room. His silhouette stretches its arms, cracks its knuckles, and turns slowly… in my direction. We face one another now, truly against each other. He must know it deep down, how much I despise him. And yet, as if we’re the best of friends, he raises his arms and waves. He waves and I can hear the drawl of his laughter ringing inside my head. He waves and I remember the way his hand felt as he strangled me that day. He waves and I remember the fear stained on my mother’s face. I remember the blood and the smell and the maggots and fluids and he keeps on waving until he’s chipped away at me. My resolve wavers, my front comes crumbling down… and I’ve been reduced to that girl standing in the doorway of her childhood home that became a slaughterhouse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn away, but my brain is swimming, thrashing, violently inside the prison of my skull. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get a hold of yourself</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I think but that thought is slashed away. I press my back to the study lab door, as if my body can stand between him and my mind. So that, like this, I might be able to preserve what remains of my stability. But it feels as if the floor is undulating beneath my feet and that my legs have all the durability of pencil lead. My eyes burn with the tears that I’ve been desperately trying to keep inside. I am not weak. I tell myself this over and over again, but in this moment, I cannot bring myself to believe it. Not even a little bit. I grasp at the roots of my hair as I collapse to my knees, swamped up to my neck in that dreadful smell. Blood… it’s all blood… as far as I can see. The past, the present, the future until the day my life ends is covered in blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Knock… knock…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I lift my head, my tears falling freely now. Because I recognize that knock, the cadence of it… he’s come. I turn slowly, looking up at the window in the door. And there, completely blocking out the light of the library with his body, is him… He looks at me with wild eyes, the way he did that day, and grins. Phantom blood splatters still appear on his face every time I look at him. His fangs are just as sharp as I remember them. He cocks his head to the side and I hear the door’s lock click. I can’t even think, let alone reach up to lock the door again. I’m frozen in place… Right here, in this spot, as he looks down at me with the thrill I know he feels seeing me beneath him. He knows he has succeeded in whatever this sudden appearance was meant to do. He’s won… He broke me yet again. And his lips curl and mouth the words that have scarred me for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s your eye… Mitty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not sure if the scream I heard before everything went black is mine. Though, I figure it must have been. My scream hasn’t really changed over the years, even though I don’t do it often. But on </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> day, I screamed a lot. I don’t think I’ll ever truly forget what I saw, even if I try not to remember. Every time I look in the mirror, I’ll be reminded. Because I look like him… and he looks like me. It’s only natural… since we’re twins. There are still some days when I can’t believe it. There are times when I think I must have misunderstood something somewhere. I hope and I pray that this is an elaborate joke that simply went on for too long. Even though it’s an insurmountable truth, it pains me for some reason. Perhaps that’s why facing him is so difficult for me even now. Saying it is excruciating. For me, who loved him so much, how can I accept that the one who killed our entire family… is Mitsuto?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking back, it took me a long time to really understand what had happened. It took me even longer to really believe that Mitsuto was the one who did it. No matter how many times he took the credit for it, gloated about it, I just couldn’t believe it was him. My brother… wasn’t that kind of person. He was always by my side. He always protected me the best he could from things neither one of us understood. Even if our relationship had been strained, I never would’ve thought that he might’ve held so much resentment in his heart. It was difficult to think he had never had a heart to begin with. Worse yet, I blamed myself before I blamed him. Had I been better, had I stood for him more, could I have stopped him? Had I not left that morning, had I talked to him, would he have not done it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I asked him why, why he did it. Without missing a beat, he just laughed and said there wasn’t a reason. He saw an opportunity and took it. Simple as that. But I always wondered what his tipping point was. When I went looking for the compass again, and found that it was gone, I assumed that was why he did it. Anger, anger at me and at our father and at everyone else who looked down on him because he wasn’t like me. Because he was a troublemaker, and foul-mouthed, and didn’t have my eye. Didn’t have my </span>
  <em>
    <span>gift</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I wish he had understood just how little I cared about all of that. Even if he coveted my place to the point of insanity, I wish he had understood how much more important he was to me than everything. Had he asked it, I would have followed him anywhere. I trusted him. It felt like he was my other half, he was my balance. So when I returned home that day to find him gorging himself on the blood of our family, I was left completely upended and unsteady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How… Why did he become a vampire? I asked him that as well. To my surprise, he was more forthcoming with that story. And I hated myself even more after hearing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The eve of our mother’s birthday, he decided to pick a fight with our father. He wouldn’t tell me why, he said the reason wasn’t important. So, as the sun went down, he and Father went to the river and fought on the bank. He was still human then so Father beat him with ease. He told me that Father had beaten him so bad, he broke his jaw into three pieces. And as he laid wounded on the river bank, our Father disowned him. Forbade him from setting foot in the meadow and told him if he ever made it as far as the house, he would kill him. I was horrified hearing that. My father was a serious man, to the point of being scary at times. But, I couldn’t imagine him ever saying something like that. Yet, Mitsuto insisted that was the truth of the situation. That our father forced his hand. And when he was given the chance to have unrivalled power, he took it without hesitating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever it was, bruised pride or greed or resentment, I figured it changed nothing. Mitsuto’s actions could never be undone. No matter how much I had loved him, he was a monster. A demon. And I decided that love was merely a weakness preventing me from doing what needed to be done. For the sake of my pride, to be able to proudly carry the Itomori name and purify our legacy, I made a vow. Whatever it took… I would kill my brother. But how… How can I do it if I can’t even face his shadow? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi… Oi! Wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing I hear as my consciousness fades back in is thankfully not my brother’s voice. In fact, for the first time, I am so relieved to hear that cold voice, muffled by a scarf. I lift my lids slowly, somewhat apprehensive that this could just be a ploy to get me to drop my guard. But all I see is white hair that seems almost iridescent in the light of the moon. Carla’s eyes are sharp, without even a drop of kindness. But for some reason, seeing them puts me at ease. I know, in his presence, I don’t have to worry about Mitsuto. In a strange and twisted way, I feel… safe. Carla sighs, pawing around at my uniform and inhaling deeply as I lay on the floor of the study lab. Mitsuto must have left his scent here before Carla came, which is probably why Carla’s staring at me with such intense scrutiny. But… I feel safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carla-san… Can I ask you for something?” I say softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He draws his hand away and lifts his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on,” he says in a bitter growl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lift myself just slightly, so that I can come face to face with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s continue the purification today,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look on his face is utterly priceless. It’s not particularly easy to catch him off guard, but the moments I manage it are worth it. His eyes narrow and widen as he leans closer to me. He doesn’t know my reasoning and even I am surprised that I want this. But, the thought of being infected by Mitsuto any longer is difficult to reconcile. I don’t want anything of him attached to me. Even if it means sacrificing the amount of time I have to kill him, for some reason I want… to be cleansed. For a moment, and just a moment, Carla’s expression softens. Then, as he pulls his scarf away from his mouth, his face becomes fierce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You asking for the purification straightforward… doesn’t displease me,” he chuckles. “Show me the place you would like for me to clean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he says, I pull away my blazer and roll up the sleeve of my blouse to my shoulder. I hold out the ring of scars on my bicep to him. Carla scowls, staring at the marks with disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dare to ask me to place my fangs at the spot that vampire carved out,” he asks, his voice a deep rumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to be there exactly… I just… want to be rid of it already,” I mumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I begin rolling my sleeve back down and Carla watches me do so in a thoughtful silence. Then, he snatches up my wrist and brings it to his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here… is just fine,” he snarls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the same force as always, his fangs sink in. But… It doesn’t hurt. On the contrary, I feel invigorated. Mitsuto always bit my arm, always in the same spot because we are siblings. Oddly enough, that was where he drew the line of repulsivities, though I won’t complain. However, as I see Carla drink and in the process remove whatever has been tainting my blood, I can’t help feeling soothed. I feel stronger, even as my blood is being drained away. Like this, Mitsuto can’t reach me. Like this, I have the higher ground. Carla… is my insurance. As long as he’s here… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla inhales sharply, removing his fangs from my wrist with a deep gulp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give you a piece of good news,” he says with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoops my hair up in his hand and frees up my ear. Then, he leans into it and whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t be long until you’re completely purified.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fangs pierce my neck and I gasp, gazing out of the window of the study lab. In the sky, there’s a pale full moon. Carla continues to suck my blood and a familiar dizzy sensation floods my emptying veins. For some reason, I start counting the stars in the sky. Hundreds of little white stars fill my eyes and I grip Carla’s shoulders. Yes, I want to be purified. Even if it’s for a reason that Carla doesn’t know, I want to comply with him for a little while. I want to savor this safe feeling, even if it has been cultivated by something maddening. For just a bit, I want this to be all there is. No revenge to be taken, no hatred festering within me nourished by the love I once felt. I just want to watch the stars like this… before I have to go back to that place. Before I have to unlock those memories…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I know, deep down inside I know, I will never be able to face him until I face that day. Until I allow myself to remember it all. But for now, I doze off in Carla’s restraints and slip into a dreamless sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carla-san… stay with me from now on…” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I can't wait until this family beef is squashed so I can shift focus to Mitsuna's feelings towards Carla and vice versa. We need to sail this ship ASAP!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Iris</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mitsuna has a startling vision that gives her inspiration to strengthen her resolve, leading her to have an interesting conversation with Carla. However, her feelings towards the Founder King continue to confuse her.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Initially, I was going to be more detailed with what happened to the Itomori family. But I decided not to be gruesome with it. At least, not right now. Enjoy some Caramitsu content!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>You must never forsake the gifts you are given.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>My father’s words are scarred on the tip of my tongue.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In this suspended nightmare,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I tell myself to be grateful.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Mitsuna Monologue</b>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>I saw something I didn’t want to see four years ago. Something that I desperately want to forget. So why… am I back here?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m not sure exactly when this vision started or what I had been doing up until that point. But with no prominent beginning or end, my consciousness was sparked the moment I walked through the door. Contrary to the way I experienced this setting the first time, I can only see from my right eye. Another clear indication this is a perversion of my memory, it’s pitch black outside. An owl hoots somewhere in the distance and the sliver of light that slices through the darkness in the house comes from an unrouteable source. My vision adjusts slowly and the childhood home I remember slowly fades into being. Shadows of corpses and blood splatters remain, but nothing with a defined form or shape. I suppose that’s my mind’s way of being kind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I step into the foyer and unlike that day, there is no overwhelming odor of spilled blood. There is no buzz of flies. It’s perfectly quiet, empty… yet there is a heaviness looming over me. A dread that creeps up the nape of my neck and tangles itself in my hair. It is the feeling of stillness before an earthquake, before a tsunami comes to sweep everything away. Yet, I proceed further until I’m standing beneath the chandelier. Suddenly, in a faint echo, a stranger’s voice resounds off the stained walls and reaches the pit of my heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve returned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice is light, yet firm. And though I’m certain I’ve never heard this voice in my life before, it feels comfortable. Familiar. Trustworthy. So I reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” the voice asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I turn, looking around the room for the answer. Why have I returned? Why am I suddenly back in this place? Is this… really the only way?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To become stronger…” I answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The front door closes at a hauntingly stalled pace, but I don’t move from where I’m standing. Even as I’m closed into this darkness, I steel myself and hold my ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then… Come downstairs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Downstairs… </span>
  </em>
  <span> I look toward the staircase. To any outsider, there would be nothing out of the ordinary about the wall supporting the stairs. Trimmed with golden moldings, it’s easy to pass right by. In fact, it wasn’t until Yuri’s death that I actually learned about the door there. I draw a breath and take a single step towards the wall. As if I set off some sensor, the house rumbles and vibrates. The square molding concealing the door shudders and with a creak, swings open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come downstairs…” the voice breathes from below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I bite the inside of my cheek and press forward, stepping into the stairwell that leads down to the crypt. I’ve only been in the crypt twice. When Uncle Souji and Aunt Anna brought me down to pay my respects to Yuri… and when Mitsuto let me lay everyone to rest. As I descend the stairs, I think of that day. He said he was tired of the smell, of the bugs… so he helped me bring everyone down to the crypt and in the tombs that were already prepared for them. My father told me that every time someone was born, their tomb was made right away. It was a ritual that our ancestor Tomoyuki put in place. During his time, it was rare for children to live past a certain age. Therefore, he implemented this practice so that no matter what happened or how suddenly a death occurred, there would always be a resting place ready. There was even a tomb for me and for Mitsuto, side by side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stairs trail off into a long white corridor that, in contrast to the rest of this vision, is well-lit by mounted torches. I walk the path, for the first time, by myself. Every step I take reverberates off the arched ceiling, drumming back into my ears like the beating of my heart. The further I go, the louder the echoes become until it feels as if my ear drums are being crushed. By the time I reach the door to the crypt, a piercing ringing is all I can hear. Nevertheless, I’ve already made up my mind. I pull up the latch that seals the iron door, and pull it open. The crypt itself has always been a dim and dank place. It’s so deep underground that it feels as if the room will collapse at any time. And yet, as I step inside, I feel at peace. Generations of Itomori ancestors are here. Even Tomoyuki himself was buried here. His tomb is at the very center of the crypt’s entrance, adorned with sparkling red and blue jewels. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From him, the path forks. To the left is the line from his eldest son and to the right, his youngest son’s. I turn left, walking to the end of the tunnel-like structure and passing my grandparents’ grandparents and uncles and aunts and brothers. And then, the tunnel splits off into another room. The room where my father’s generation is laid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yuuto, Ryuhei, and Souji… Sons of Souichiro and his wife, Yoshie,” I hear the voice speak though I can’t seem to discern what direction it’s coming from anymore. “Yuuto married Yuuna and conceived twins, Mitsuto and Mitsuna. Ryuhei married Nao and conceived sons Heiji, Rei, and Ken. Souji married Anna and conceived one son, Yuri.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod, having already known this. Just as the voice says, everyone is buried here. It took nearly two days to properly bury everyone. I was especially careful with my immediate relatives, sealing their tombs as best as I could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Itomori Mitsuna, sole daughter born of the Itomori line… Come to your resting place,” the voice instructs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As it says, I walk to the far side of the room where my tomb is and suddenly, my entire body is ice. The chill in the air is immeasurable and my jaw rattles as I stare at the empty space where my body is meant to be laid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do not fear death, for death is absolute… Fear life, where your honor has been forsaken.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>My honor… </span>
  </em>
  <span>My eyes shift towards Mitsuto’s tomb. The one who took my honor… was Mitsuto. The one who filled these tombs too soon was Mitsuto. The one who destroyed everything, the one who selfishly brought us ruin… was only Mitsuto. My uncles with their throats slashed open, my aunts with their hearts missing, Mother and Father… all of it was Mitsuto. And there, within his tomb, is a familiar object wrapped in a gray-tinged linen cloth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nourish your hatred and expel the impurity in our bloodline… Then, when you are worthy, return to this place and take back what was once mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Nourish my hatred… my hatred…</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>I understand now, I understand everything. My assumptions were right. Mitsuto’s motivation, the reason why he killed everyone I held dear… was all for the sake of stealing that damned compass. The compass our father intended to pass on to me. The one that I am meant to inherit. Because he could not stand being overlooked, because he could not gain the acknowledgement he craved, because he lacked the gift our father cherished in me… He cast this fate onto all of us. From my right eye, something hot is trickling out. I bring my trembling fingers up to my cheek. When I look down at them, I find them slick with blood. I can feel my eye twist and convulse in its socket but there is no longer any pain. My iris is fracturing, swirling around like a whirlpool, but I feel nothing. I no longer want to run away, I no longer want to look away. This is the gift that I was rightfully given. Because I am the one my father entrusted the future to, I won’t cower and falter again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. You truly do… have my eyes…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice fades away, along with this vision. I’m at a standstill as this fabricated world dissolves around me. Then, in the blink of an eye, I’m returned to reality. I’m greeted by my reflection in the bathroom mirror veiled by the steam billowing from the running faucet. I turn the hot water off and wipe the mirror. Unlike my vision, there is no blood dripping from my eye. But… my eye has finally changed. The restlessness bumbling about in its orb is absent now. The iris of my eye… looks like a hurricane. Completed muddled, clouds of color move in a spiral. There is no pain and though I am still blind in my right eye, it feels as if my sight has been drastically improved. Is this… what my father meant? Is this why he told me over and over again not to wrestle against this feeling? Even if the look is terribly ugly, I no longer feel crippled by my eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I shut the water off and pull on my eyepatch. As I enter my room, I try to recount the vision I just had. Yet, the details are already crumbling away. I sit on my bed and sigh, trying to place that voice that spoke to me at the very least. It was a man’s voice and judging from the things he said… Was it Tomoyuki speaking to me? It must have been. That compass originally belonged to him. But, if that’s true… then I have his eyes? What does that mean? Well… I suppose everything will become clear soon enough. Rather than wondering about these vague things, I should move toward what can be accomplished now. With a grunt, I rise up from my bed and leave my room. I’m looking forward to the day when I won’t be relegated to the dungeon of this mansion. I hate being underground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as I make it upstairs, I reflexively stretch my arms out and inhale the less dense air of the ground floor. Not long ago, I had to wait for Shin or Carla to bring me out of the dungeon. However, it seems that I can act with more autonomy. Considering Carla’s plans for me, it’s likely that he’s just letting me have my way for now so that when the time comes, I won’t resist him. Maybe he thinks I’ll willingly carry a child for him. After all, this tightrope we’ve been walking trying to charm each other has gone on for a while now. Heading to his room, I wonder how long it will be until one of us loses our balance and reveals our true intentions. For the time being, however, I’ll continue to play into his hand with the hopes he’ll play into mine. At his door, I try to figure out the best way to phrase my request. And just as I’m prepared to knock, I hear Shin’s voice roar out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are we waiting for, Brother?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I take a step back from the door, caught off guard by the indignation in Shin’s tone. And though I know my eavesdropping would only make matters worse, I am curious to hear what’s gotten him so riled up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t stand this! Parading around like a couple of human high school students. It’s been long enough hasn’t it? Why don’t we just hurry up and take the woman back to Banmaden?!” Shin rants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite Shin’s provocation, I don’t hear Carla respond which just spurs on Shin’s irritation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re wasting our time here when we could go kill that Karlheinz bastard instead!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Karlheinz… the Vampire King?</span>
  </em>
  <span> If I remember correctly, Karlheinz is the vampire that sealed the Founders away in their castle after they were defeated in a war. I suppose I was right in thinking they hated him, but I didn’t think their aim was to kill him as well. Although, it makes sense that Carla would prioritize securing a future for their race over exacting revenge. It seems Shin doesn’t share the sentiment… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shin, do you intend to further question your king’s judgment? Or will your tantrum end here?” Carla finally says, seemingly unmoved by Shin’s words entirely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shin scoffs and suddenly falls silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That woman has been listening at the door,” Carla says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I gulp and think of running away, but that might only seem more suspicious. Instead, I knock lightly on the door and hope that I won’t be horribly punished for this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it okay if I enter?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on,” Carla says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as I open the door, Shin moves past me forcefully. I’m pushed into the doorframe as he storms off down the hall with a bitter “I’m going for a run”. I collect myself and turn my gaze to Carla. His expression is unreadable at best. I waver in the doorway, contemplating if now is really the best time to ask him for anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hurry up and tell me what you want,” he growls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod quickly and enter the room, closing the door behind me as softly as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… I was going to come to ask your permission for something, but I think I’ve been a bit greedy lately,” I say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s best to appeal to him, especially now. Even though his face doesn’t show it, his harsh tone would suggest that Shin’s words got to him. As I await his reply, I can’t help but notice how much thinner he looks from the day before. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is he losing weight,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I wonder. Even though he’s had sharp features for as long as I’ve known him, his face seems a bit more angular now. The usual fiercocity in his eyes has been dulled and overall… he just seems exhausted. A prickling sensation stirs in my chest, but I can’t quite grasp the reason for it. His condition must be gradually getting worse…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you staring at me with that dumb expression? Did you come here to be an eyesore?” he snaps at me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he walks toward me, I find myself backed against his door. Closing the gap between us, he extends his arm and places his hand beside my head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What more do you intend to ask me for?” he asks, his timbre deepening as his eyes narrow on me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m not sure how to answer. It seems like no matter what I say, he’ll just become more agitated. However, if I ask for what I want in a way that makes it seem like I want to do it with him in mind… will he accept it then? I guess all I can do is try and hope for the best.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On Friday, the school is hosting a sports festival so I… I wanted to take you and Shin to it,” I answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking or how he has received what I said. He merely stares down at me in complete silence, making the air around us more tense with each passing second. Like this, it’s preferable being underground. But, I told myself I would not cower back anymore. I stand straight, facing him directly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t make me laugh,” he says in a biting voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before I can finish my statement, his other hand grips my waist with a bruising force. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Uh oh… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been too lenient with you, you seem to have forgotten your place,” he snarls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a violent intensity, his fingers dig into my skin and his mouth nears my ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t mistake me for someone sweet,” he tells me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fangs bite through the shell of my ear and I ball my hands up into fist, resisting the urge to cry out. He isn’t even sucking my blood, he’s simply trying to cause me pain. And while he’s doing it very successfully, I can’t possibly give up. One way or another, I need to go to that festival. I know Mitsuto will be there. If it’s peacocking, so be it. I want to show him that I’m not afraid. That I am not his toy anymore. I have the strength to make a provocation of my own. He caught me off guard the other night, I want the chance to do the same. So now, just because Carla is angered by his own brother’s words, I cannot give in. Even if this feeling is pure agony, even if it feels as though my ear might be ripped off, I won’t give in!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t that… I just wanted you two to have fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Upon hearing my words, the pressure of Carla’s bite lessens. He draws back with a somewhat puzzled if not offended face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t take that the wrong way, but… I’m worried about you so I wanted you to have fun,” I tell him in an unfortunately strained voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Being sincere in this moment isn’t that hard surprisingly. The only surprise I see is on Carla’s face. Maybe it’s a bit too unlike me to say these kinds of things. I sink back against the door and avert my gaze from his. My face is getting warm before I can force it, but that only adds to the conviction of my words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you think I would find something like that fun?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may not, but speaking from experience… I always enjoyed it. It’s a happy atmosphere, with lots of food and games. And there’s different competitions, like horseback archery, for example. I always win that,” I explain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While he is allowing me to speak earnestly, I can’t tell if I’m properly convincing him. I wrack my brain, trying to think of what Carla enjoys doing. I know he’s interested in literature… and art! I always see him with some kind of art book and in his room, there’s a variety of paintings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! And there’s an art station! The school has a lot of alumni that have become famous artists so they come by and paint pieces that you can buy at the end of the festival. I thought you might like that,” I say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face softens ever so slightly and I’m relieved to see that I’ve found the right thing to coax him with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” he asks, somewhat skeptical but not as temperamental as before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I sigh and rub my aching ear, wincing at the stinging that shouts from his bitemarks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, and I want to defend my archery title… It’s a matter of pride,” I say with a pout.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Is it possible for me to be cute? If Carla was Hanamura, I would have him wrapped around my little finger without having to do much of anything. But then again, there’s no fun without a challenge. Carla seems to be considering it more seriously now and with a sigh, he closes his eyes and runs his fingers back through his hair. I have him hooked, now I just have to reel him in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But… if it causes more problems between you and Shin, then I won’t ask you for anything else. It’s more important that you are on good terms with your brother,” I say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carla’s brow arches and I sheepishly look away from him again. While I am fully trying to manipulate him, I do have some sincerity in saying that. Family is important… Even as Founders, I’m sure Carla feels the same way. After all, his whole plan for me centers on family. And, though it could be poor judgment to think so, if he didn’t care about his brother then I doubt he would have had such a reaction to Shin’s outburst. Carla is strange sometimes. There are moments when, just slightly, he seems as though he thinks similar to me. That his way of thinking is like mine. But those moments are stifled by something cold that takes control of him. That strange feeling in my chest simmers again and I find myself thinking strange thoughts. I’m thinking that Carla might be suffering and… do I feel bad for him? Is it because I keep subconsciously trying to empathize with him? Or am I simply projecting my own qualities onto him to make this whole scheme easier?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t concern yourself with Shin. Regardless of his temper, he knows the order of things. More importantly, worry about yourself,” Carla tells me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I glance back up at him as he turns away from me and lounges back on his bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On Friday, we will go to this festival you’re talking about. I trust the artwork will be worth the excursion,” he says in a leading tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod eagerly and though it feels strange, I naturally smile. I’m relieved, I can actually go!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure to show you something good!” I say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carla tilts his head to the side and with an arrogant chuckle, beckons me to come closer to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well, then. For now, however… let us continue the purification,” he orders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I swallow my pride and willingly walk into his grasp. He positions me on his lap with a heavy-handed touch, slipping his hand underneath my shirt. He exposes my ribs, running his cold finger over the scar I got when Mitsuto and I were sparring years ago. Though Carla looks at it questioningly for a second or two, he doesn’t ask about it. He simply draws me closer and prepares to sink his fangs in. But, a fit of coughing stops him. He pulls back, covering his mouth with his hand. Awkwardly, I stand up and retreat from him as he tries to restrain himself. When he finally manages to stop and catch his breath, he wipes his mouth and looks up at me with a sickly expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll carry on another time. Return to your room,” he pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nod and leave at his word. As I walk back down the hall, I clutch my chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why… do I feel like this?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Perhaps I’m getting sick, that would surely explain this feeling. Or is it that I really pity Carla? Do I… truly feel worry for him? After all, Carla’s well-being ensures that Mitsuto won’t come charging in to snatch me away so it’s natural that I’d have a vested interest in seeing Carla healthy. But, if that’s the case, then why is my heart beating so fast like this? I shake my head and dismiss the errant thoughts swirling around in my mind. I must stay focused. I got what I wanted. I got my chance to show Mitsuto what he’s up against. Our ancestry is on my side and with my eye… there’s no way he’ll be able to win. I try to hold back the laughter rising up in the back of my throat, but it escapes the moment I return to my room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait for me… brother.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love writing her being all flustered about her feelings, it gives me immense joy.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Beautiful Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mitsuna's conflicting emotions continue to cause a disturbance within her and she feels herself becoming closer to Carla.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I thought a light-hearted chapter was needed. Towards the end, things get a bit dreary but I included a fun scene that my friend wanted to see between Carla and Mitsuna. Of course, the start of something nice can only be met with something cruel. The Sports Festival is starts next chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>We cannot understand one another.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even if we stand beneath the same stars and moon,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We cannot see each other.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And still, in your presence…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I felt less lonely.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Mitsuna Monologue</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The world is full of impermanence. At some point, I started thinking such transience was wonderful. The night sky, for example, is always changing. Some things remain the same, but the perspective is always shifting. I learned to appreciate the night sky more and more throughout the years. Maybe it was necessity, or perhaps a method of coping. After all, I’m well-acquainted with being held down and hindered. I am a human to the end and I’m no different than anyone else. I can’t bear to live in a world that is absolutely hideous. So in order to endure, I must find beauty in something. Isn’t that the way it works?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rationalizing this feeling that stirs in the depths of my heart is tedious. At Carla’s side, I feel as though I’m constantly being overturned and exposed. As if the dark side of the moon has become apparent and with it, all of its secrets are unfurled. It’s aggravating to say the least. Though I feel I’m wavering, I steady myself by looking at the sky. With the Sports Festival approaching in a few days, I cannot falter. Even thinking so is unacceptable for me. From here, things will take a steep incline. I must be precise and act without trepidation. So, this well-manicured facade of companionship with Carla must stay intact until the moment when I can bare everything. When my true and honest self can be revealed at the point of no return, I will put an end to this miserable life and accept the grotesque nature of this world wholeheartedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lift my head slightly, tracing a constellation from the window of the study lab. No matter how I look at it, I can’t do what Tomoyuki asked of me in that vision. There is no way I can properly escape after killing Mitsuto… There is no way that I can live after that point. If I continue to live, even if Carla dies, I won’t be able to run from Shin. Even if I can outsmart him, I would have to spend the rest of my days running away. Always running, always hiding… Life is not so precious that I would choose to suffer. So, dreary as it may be, I have decided to be selfish. I… won’t live past the end of the school term. When Mitsuto dies, I’ll die as well. How long do I have, then? Five weeks? Maybe four?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla catches my eye with the twitch of his brow. I’m not sure when exactly but he dozed off some time while I was doing my classwork. Far be it from me to wake him, but every so often he groans as if he’s in pain. For that reason, it’s difficult not to stare at him. Maybe I have lost my mind. Seeing him in discomfort brings along a myriad of emotions. A voice deep inside of me relishes the moments when I see him weakened. I feel secure thinking that I may be the stronger one between us for a little while. I enjoy seeing him in agony because it means that I have control. I like it… and yet, I don’t. He groans again and my heart feels constricted. When did I begin to feel bad for him? At what point did he root himself within my mind and cause me to think of him in this way? It’s just as I thought… demons are scary. Being a woman is even scarier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you have something to say-” he groans suddenly “-spit it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes crack open slowly, as if shy to some bright light somewhere. I lean back in my chair and cast my gaze back to the night sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing… I was thinking about something,” I mumble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla’s eyes bore into me but I don’t say more than that. My own confliction prevents me. I can’t settle on my thoughts so the only emotion that gets projected is irritation. Internally, I wish Carla wasn’t so perceptive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does something displease you?” he asks flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head and continue looking out the window. He sighs and taps his finger on the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You women are fickle creatures,” he grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chair makes an awful squeak as he scoots back from the desk. With a sharp exhale, he walks away toward the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come,” he orders me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I bite back a sigh and follow begrudgingly. As we leave the lab and step into the library, Carla pauses at my side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take me to your canned coffee,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lift my eyes, looking at his face. His expression is cold as always, but more tired than anything. That’s par for the course these days. Perhaps it is his own illness that makes him this way, but he just seems more and more languid. I can’t complain about that, however. It’s because of that attitude that I can get away with so much. I’m sure if he was completely healthy, if he had all the time in the world, he wouldn’t go as far as to keep me in a relatively content state. I wonder… What does he feel about his own death? I lead him out of the library and to the nearest vending machine contemplating this. Surely, if there’s no readily available cure for whatever he’s afflicted with, his death is certain. Still, for someone who is immortal, how has he reconciled the thought of dying? For me, death has always been an imminent possibility but that’s only natural. Humans have a finite lifespan. Demons don’t... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once we arrive at the vending machine, I wait for Carla to act. Though, he simply stares at the machine as if off put by it. Maybe it’s because of the little jingle that plays from it or the automated voice that encourages you to make a purchase. Or, maybe he’s unfamiliar with this, too. I purse my lips, trying not to giggle as I recall how he reacted to the can of coffee I gave him. I fish around in my blazer pocket for my coin purse and take a step closer to Carla. If I have to endure this terrible mood, I can at least enjoy teasing him a little, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you want to come here, Carla-san?” I ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A faint redness dusts over the bridge of his nose and for a moment, I think I’ve begun to hallucinate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s blushing?!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Inside, I’m reeling with laughter. Even on the outside, I can’t help but smile at this display. I bite my lip and compose myself, turning my attention back to the vending machine as my fingers curl around my coin purse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To kill time,” he answers and the blush evaporates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod understandingly and step forward, readying my change for the machine. I glance back over my shoulder, trying to watch Carla’s reaction as I put my change in and hit a few buttons. Thankfully, his focus is intently sharpened to the machinations, so I can watch safely. The machine whirs and Carla’s eyes widen as if witnessing some ungodly sight. I quickly look away from him before he can notice my stare and just as I do, the machine jolts and the gears grind to a stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again?!” I exclaim without thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stumble back toward Carla, dumbfounded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The damned thing, of all times!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I cross my arms, unable to keep from pouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you break it?” Carla asks in such an unconcerned way that I want to throttle him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it keeps getting jammed,” I groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Last time, I kicked the machine and it worked. I approach the machine, taking a moment to look back at Carla. I lift my foot up and draw it back slowly, waiting to see if he’ll stop me. But, on the contrary, he looks even more curious than before. So, I gather my strength and kick the side of the machine as hard as I can. I hear Carla gasp, but I’m more preoccupied with the sight of my coffee dropping into the vending port. As I swing the little plastic door open, I hear Carla snort and chuckle. When I look back, his eyes are closed and he’s still chortling to himself. I pop open the can and scowl. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s laughing at me...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s so amusing to you?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His laughter halts and I feel as though I’ve made a grave error. His eyes narrow and I purse my lips once more, this time wishing I could eat my own words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve become quite ill-mannered, haven’t you?” he says sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, subverting my expectation, Carla doesn’t look angry. He chuckles once again and pulls a black wallet out of his pocket. For some reason, seeing Carla with a wallet is even more disturbing than hearing him genuinely laugh at something. Like this, he seems... normal almost. I watch him as he steps toward the machine and inserts a few coins. Then he selects a flavor, EXEC Black, and waits. A red button flashes but he doesn’t press it. I don’t have it in me to tell him he needs to press it to send through the order. It’s a small bit of revenge for him teasing me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t doing anything,” he growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder...” I hum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla taps his selection again... and again... and again. Before I know it, he’s furiously pressing the button with his thumb and I fear he might actually break the entire machine himself. The automated voice sings and the little jingle plays. His brows are furrowed, his eyes are like flames. The red light continues blinking, as if pleading with him to be pressed but somehow he continues not to see it. How... can be this way? I press the red button lightly with my finger and his assault ceases. The machine fearfully whizzes and his coffee drops with no problem, sitting in the vending port as if eagerly awaiting him. And his face relaxes, while my stomach tenses. I can’t... hold it. Even though I cover my mouth with my hand and bite my tongue, I giggle. His eyes cut to me with an intense glare as he takes his can and that’s all it takes for my laughter to break free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stagger back, my eyes squeezing shut as I laugh at the scene constantly replaying in my mind. His anger, the beeping, all for a can of black coffee! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m sorry! Haha!” I titter, clutching my gut and trying desperately not to spill my coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You... Are you mocking me?” he snarls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head fervently but I can’t stop laughing. Gosh, I haven’t laughed like this in years... When was the last time? When my cousin Heiji tripped and ripped his pants open without realizing? He must’ve bumbled around with his ass showing for an hour! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sheesh</span>
  </em>
  <span>... One thought after another snowballs until tears are pooling in my eyes and I can’t breathe. I heave, trying to regain my composure and fan my eyes. When I finally regain some sense of control over myself, Carla’s glower is fierce. I stifle another giggle and bite down on my finger, panting harshly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This insolence... I won’t forgive it,” Carla states.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod and exhale softly, finally calm. I bow my head and rub my sore belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I apologize,” I say and take a sip from my own can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t tell if Carla’s mood has worsened as he turns away from me and begins walking back down the hall. I trail behind, pleasantly surprised to find that my irritation has evaporated. It’s strange... Am I becoming strange? Lately, all of these peculiar thoughts are pricking me. I wonder why I’ve begun to enjoy Carla’s company? I try to evaluate this as I follow him. We don’t necessarily talk much outside of our own manipulations, but on the rare occasion we hold a conversation I find myself intrigued by him. There’s many things I would like to learn about Carla because he is so different from me and at the same time, I think that we may be similar in some ways. What a strange thing... to think I am similar to him. How laughable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carla-san, how old are you?” I ask him as we reenter the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops, looking back at me with an arched brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you asking something like that so suddenly?” he questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was simply wondering,” I tell him, taking another swig of my coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla turns and looks over the railing of the walkway, his eyes landing on the large globe at the center of the first floor of the library. His head tilts to the side and he hums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure that’s something you’d like to know?” he muses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take a step towards him and lean against the railing. There’s a look of amusement on his face but his eyes are dull. I look at the globe and nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to know whatever you’re willing to tell me,” I answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, then,” he sighs. “In human terms, I am... about 1,200 years old.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nearly choke, denting my coffee can in my clenched hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>1,200 years...</span>
  </em>
  <span> I look up and down at Carla, who by all physical standards appears to be my age. It’s disarming to say the least that anything could exist for that long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if I tell you something like that, you can’t possibly comprehend it, can you?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head. It’s no wonder, then, that he’s tired. Could it be on some level that he is resigned to dying? Having lived for so long, I’m sure I would welcome death if I had accomplished all I had set out to do. Again, here I am thinking we are similar. Five weeks from now, I plan to end my own life. Though melancholic, I am comforted by the thought of an assured end. My life, that has felt insufferably long, is merely a speck compared to Carla’s. Yet, somehow, our paths have become intertwined in this way. It’s hard to think about and even more difficult to understand. I’m sure... Carla never thought he would be in this place either. I wonder how different it was for him a few centuries ago. Were there more First Bloods alive with him? Did he believe it would always be that way? That the woman he would bear children with would be one of his own? Did he also lose something precious to him? In that vast amount of time, surely... he must have lost a lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you making such a somber expression?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It must be miserable... to live so long,” I mumble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm? I was under the impression that you humans were inconsolably attached to life. Then again... you don’t seem to share the same sentiment,” he says casually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I ruminate over his words, finding some truth within them. After all, there are endless stories about humans who sought cures for death itself. Fountains of youth and elixirs for immortality, there is an endless yearning for a life that will never end. I suppose it’s equally true that I do not resonate with such a line of thought. If I had to spend the rest of my life alone like this... I would much rather die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It may seem strange to you, but... I’ve already lived a long life, I feel. Once the well of interest dries up, I think I’ll welcome death openly,” I say and step away from the railing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In silence, Carla and I stand side by side. For just a moment, I think he understands me. The pensive look on his face seems open-minded. Am I just going mad? Am I deluding myself so that I feel a little less lonely?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It hurts...” I grimace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla looks away from the globe and down at me with an inquisitive eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It hurts my pride, though... thinking that everything ends with me,” I say, even though I’m not sure if I’m directly speaking to Carla anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no getting around it. I want to die. Still, I’m fearful. I’m pained by the thought that I will leave the world alone and that because of me, the Itomori name will die, too. Even though it’s not my fault, even though I’m not the one that cast us into this spiral, I’m ultimately responsible for the fate of my family. I know this, I’ve always known this and still, it hurts. I want to cry, but I refuse to. Not in Carla’s presence, not while I’m still someone’s tool. I won’t cry. I won’t show that weakness... Until the very end, I will not be weak. These petty emotions that keep gnawing at me are useless. They’re simple distractions. I won’t be this stupid again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Carla-san, shall we go back now?” I ask, dissolving whatever softness that had overtaken me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I will not... lose. I cannot lose. Because my time is running out as well, I cannot let Carla win this game we’ve started to play. No matter what pain may come, I will endure it. For the sake of my family, I will not hesitate. Until I reach that beautiful sky, anything that stands in my way will never be forgiven.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wonder what Mitsuto thinks of all this...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Win Some</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carla attends the Sports Festival and is witness to how other students view Mitsuna. He's one step closer to achieving his goal, but worries that this victory is premature.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another chapter from Carla's point of view! This chapter is long, but I wanted to include lots of fun scenes. Unfortunately, these rose-tinted chapters will come to an end in the next chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>As the woman walked away from me that night,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An odd thought crept into my mind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The pain she spoke of was something not too unfamiliar to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Watching her back grow farther away, I thought I saw myself in her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Carla Monologue</b>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Humans and their festivities will never cease to surprise me. This festival that woman spoke so jovially about is rather rambunctious and I feel tired just standing at the perimeter of it. The courtyard leading out to the field has been entirely converted into a mess of string lights and concession stands. Despite Shin’s protests, he’s already immersed himself in this party atmosphere with a bag of popped corn kernels under his arm. He bounds over to me, holding a red slip of paper in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brother, I got this voucher for a free meal at that yo-yo game over there!” he says, handing me the paper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sigh at his disgraceful behavior and examine the voucher he’s given me. Some cartoonish etching of a person is on it, though their head is incredibly bulbous and should crush their fat little body. Written beside the etching is a message: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Entitles user to one free meal of their choice. Use it well!</span>
  </em>
  <span> How distasteful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to go win some more games, you can keep the voucher, Brother!” Shin says before running off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I huff and look about the courtyard. I suppose now would be a decent time to put that saying, “When in Rome…” to use. However, this colorful display is not suited to my tastes. Wearing this traditional Japanese clothing that feels too tight and too loose all at once, having my hair pulled up, and mingling amongst these lowly children. It’s utterly unacceptable for someone like me to engage in this. Yet, I decided to do this for that woman. The purification is close to completion, so close in fact that the odor tainting her blood is almost gone entirely. As soon as I’ve successfully cleansed that blood, I will heed Shin’s words and take her away to Banmaden. Though, I feel that she won’t argue against it. Somehow, she’s come to act rather taken with me. Whether that is a ploy or not, I doubt she would be foolish enough to fight against me at this stage. I will admit… That woman is far too smart for her own good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For that reason, I confidently let her go to the gymnasium to prepare for her event. Without a doubt, she’ll return without being stupid enough to do anything to anger me. Until then, however, I’m left to integrate into this swarm of people. There’s some upbeat and mechanical-sounding music playing from all different directions. I clutch the voucher in my hand, deciding to peruse what food is being offered at this festival. I’m not particularly fond of Japanese food, though there does seem to be a decent selection. At one stand, there is a man slicing up a variety of meats. On a spit, there’s a hunk of ham rotating at the back of the booth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So there is some taste here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I come to the stand and present the voucher to the man. He stops slicing and grabs a paper carton from a stack. He fills it halfway with steamed rice and turns to me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What meat would you like?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I would rather not have any rice, however, I think I will entertain myself with these human dishes. I point to the ham on the spit and he nods. In thin ribbons, he piles the ham on top of the rice until it forms a peak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any sauce?” he asks, gesturing to a row of bottles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a yellow sauce, a rich brown one, and a red one. Sauce isn’t a necessary addition but I have already come this far. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do as the Romans do</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I point to the brown one and he drizzles it over the ham before handing the carton to me with wooden chopsticks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoy, young man!” he tells me with a smile and a wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I step away from the stand with the food and feel perturbed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Young man</span>
  </em>
  <span>… I’m older than that man, his father, even his great-great grandfather. Yet, because of my face, he speaks down to me as if he has a right to command respect. That is the issue with humans. They only know what exists within the scope of their own perspectives. Anything outside of that, they are ignorant to. It’s offensive to me, but useful all the same. Because they are such narrow-minded beings, getting what I want from them is nothing especially difficult. My hand is growing warm from the carton and I think I’ll digress. This smell… is pleasant. With the chopsticks, I gather a mouthful of the ham and place it on my tongue. As I expected, the ham is delicious. The sauce on top is sweet, but savory. It only enhances the ham’s smoky flavor. What a thing… Perhaps that man can be forgiven on account of his ability to prepare such a thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I continue eating, walking rather aimlessly around the courtyard until I smell something else pleasant. I turn my head in the direction of the scent, finding it to be emanating from the ramen stall. Though, the scent isn’t ramen at all. A woman stands, facing away from me, at the stall. With straight dark hair, she hovers about at the stand and converses with the man working there. She’s also wearing traditional clothing, but the fabric differs from my own. Red, pink, and gold silk wrap around her body, cinching at her waist. Her hair is adorned with floral pins and as I approach her, I’m a bit surprised. This woman… is her. She turns my way before I can speak and her eyes widen. For the first time, I’m seeing the entirety of her face. Usually her hair encroaches on her features but tonight, her hair has been pulled back neatly. Her right eye, that had previously been so grotesque, looks no different from her left. However, it’s incredibly artificial-looking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a special contact lens,” she tells me, turning her attention back to the man in the stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod as the man hands her a bowl filled with ramen. Her face lights up, completely dazzled for some strange reason. Some smell wafts from the bowl, making my eyes sting and I take another bite of my food to soothe the sensation. Though, it doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. Holding the bowl in one hand, she tangles her chopsticks in the noodles and slurps away without any regard to how she might look. It’s an odd sight to watch. Her face is more made up than I’ve ever seen it. Her skin is pale but her eyes are covered in pink and gold glitter, with her lashes dark and forming fine points. Her lips, despite being introduced to the broth, are blood red and neatly painted. Such a regal appearance… for archery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what do you think?” she asks upon devouring all of the noodles in the bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of what?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The festival, it’s fun, isn’t it?” she asks, tossing the bowl into a waste receptacle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pick at the grains of rice left in my carton, having already eaten all of my ham. This festival was more enjoyable when I had the ham. She pats her chin with her finger and I notice her natural nails have all been filed into almond shapes. I must say I prefer her natural nails over the artificial ones she had when I met her. This look of hers… is much more preferable. Like this, it’s easier to view her as a woman. She sighs at my lack of a response and lowers her head. Suddenly, she inches toward me with a scowl and before I can ask what it is she’s doing, a mewling voice calls out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-to-mo-ri-senpai~!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A young boy skips over to us, far more ecstatic than I care to see any man be. What does he want with her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hanamura…” she grumbles, clinging close my side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it spectacular?! Everything turned out just as I planned it! You will definitely remember this night for years to come,” he cheers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes travel away from her and up to me. He shudders for a moment, which might suggest he isn’t completely devoid of sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be Tsukinami Carla! Tell me, how did you do it?” he asks, approaching me with a grin that I can only describe as creepy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got the Silver Genius to go out with you! I’ve got to know! Have you seen Itomori-senpai’s cute side? What’s it like?” he pleads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Are all the men at this school deranged? Does this woman really inspire such insanity among them? Even as she stares in disgust at them, they continue pursuing her like this. I suppose that’s some trick of fate that this woman would have a number of suitors seeking her out. How ironic... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she an S or M, you’ll tell me, right?” he asks, batting his eyes at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel nauseous. These kinds of people really exist? I do not view this woman as a lover and even if I did, why would I divulge such information to a classless human such as this? I look down at the woman, who seems to be turning green. She tugs at my arm with a longing gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be going now, do not follow,” she says curtly to the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, she and I leave the busy courtyard and start on the path to the field. It’s much quieter and spacious, which I can appreciate. She sighs and releases my arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry about him. He’s an idiot,” she mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head and throw away the carton as we walk. From here, the path declines and all the events are visible. I spot Shin at some kind of strength-testing apparatus. As we pass other students, they all wave at the woman and she courteously waves back. I hear their whispers and mumblings of aspiration for her. That’s right, that man called her the Silver Genius. I was aware of that title, but I didn’t quite realize how well-respected she is. Though she has the nature of a recluse, whenever someone greets her she politely acknowledges them. Our entire walk becomes punctuated with people’s adoration for her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s so cool. Was Itomori-senpai always that beautiful? I want to be like her. I’ll try harder and become like her.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Surely, she must be aware of this reputation she has, yet she acts as if she doesn’t. She seems to hold nothing about herself in high regard. If I’m not mistaken, she places little value on herself at all. With the exception of her family, it would seem she thinks of herself as worthless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So as we come to the field, she humbly bows and waves at all those who greet her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a nice night,” she sighs, looking up at the sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moon is half full so I might agree with her. The stars are purely visible, but the night sky from Banmaden is unrivalled. I’ve thought many times about whether or not the sky in the Makai is the same one as here, but it seems clear to me that they are different. The stars at home are more blue, more plentiful. It’s for that reason I can’t understand why she looks at all these lights with such fascination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! There it is!” she exclaims, gesturing off to a set-up to our right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gathered up in a circle, there’s a number of people seated before canvases. That must be the art station she was referring to when trying to convince me to come. As she said, there’s a display with a variety of paintings to be bought but the artists attending the festival are doing live ones as well. We come to the display and she points to a landscape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This one was done at the last festival. It’s called ‘Festival of Stars’, the artist is the guy over there. He was a third year when I was a first year,” she explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I appreciate the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Festival of Stars</span>
  </em>
  <span>, looking over the use of color. The background is of a sapphire blue sky, spackled with white stars while the foreground is composed of red lanterns and students dressed in kimonos. It’s a rather lovely painting if I do say so myself, one that I don’t have anything similar to in my collection. It’s semi-realistic, but his use of colors allow the painting to feel more lively than others. It breathes and moves and for a moment, it feels though I’m there in this idyllic scene that’s been conjured up. I look over at the artist that she’s pointing at and find a man hunched over on a stool, applying a layer of white oil paint to his canvas. Some of the artists have already begun their paintings but he continues working at a gentle pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Attention Nishikami Academy students, the Horseback Archery Event will begin shortly. All those participating, please report to the proper area. Thank you!” a voice booms from a speaker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman looks up at me, waiting for my permission to dismiss her. There’s a fire in her eyes that I don’t normally see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Carla-san. I hope you have fun here,” she tells me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rushes off, heading toward a moving line of people dressed similarly to her. Somehow... she manages to stand out as if she were glowing. I turn back toward the artist and approach him as he begins to apply color to his canvas. As he blends the hues for his background, I find myself wondering about that woman. How did she learn archery? Moreover, how did she learn to ride a horse? I would assume she learned such a thing from her family. Perhaps that’s why she has such pride invested in this activity. Because despite how little she seems to care for her own well-being, she has an enormous sense of pride in matters regarding her family. Students pass me and I catch her name being volleyed amongst them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Itomori-senpai really going to play today?” one girl asks her companion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah! I’m surprised, I haven’t seen her around school as much!” the companion replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The humans at this school truly hold her in high regards. It’s not something I can particularly understand. Though, I am curious to see what she has done to garner their favor. I part from the artist, who likely won’t be done for another hour or so at his pace, and follow the tide of students moving towards a track. Some are holding signs made from paper with tons of glitter and colorful drawings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do your best, Mitsuna-san! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I see that sign multiple times over, being waved by excited students both male and female. Meanwhile, at the end of the track the participants are gathered with their horses. The woman emerges from the lineup with a white horse, gently stroking its mane with a small smile. A breeze rolls past her and for just a moment, I catch her scent once more. At some point, it has become overwhelmingly sweet. Though the quality is still incomplete, it will take no time at all until her blood is fully cleansed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t help feeling relieved, though such a feeling is premature. Until I’ve successfully made her my woman, I cannot celebrate. Yet, looking at her now makes my chest swell. The most difficult part is drawing to a close. From this point forward, I will no longer have to subject myself to the whims of humans. Once we are in Banmaden, I can continue the courtship properly. Had she not been so compliant up to now, I may have chosen alternate methods. If that was her game from the beginning, then she played well starting conversations with me and learning my interests. Moreover, she shared things about herself as well. I’m sure it was a tactical manipulation, but one that worked in my favor it seems. As she mounts her horse, I think that it could have been a worse woman who inherited that heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon leaving Banmaden, Shin and I were searching for our aunt. She had escaped the castle’s seal in secret years earlier so I had hopes that I might be able to keep the Founders alive through her, even if she was a traitor to us. That’s when the brother of Karlheinz approached us, telling us that our aunt had died after giving birth to a daughter. That daughter also met a similar fate, but her heart was saved and placed within a human girl. I had low expectations for the kind of woman I would be pursuing. I thought she might have been insufferably vapid like the human women I’ve read about. Contemptuous and impertinent from the very start. I had braced myself for such a woman. It’s almost boring then, thinking of the way it turned out. There was no need to train this woman, who had already been domesticated. She understood her place from the beginning and obeyed. Still, I can’t imagine someone like her... so willingly forfeited every sense of agency. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other participants race past on the track, struggling to hit the three targets set up. The woman simply sits atop her horse, stroking behind its ears. I don’t quite look forward to her smelling like that beast but it seems as though she’s perfectly comfortable on a horse. As a Founder, the need for such animals was never there. Having the ability to transform into a number of animals, a quick mode of transportation was never wanted for. Shin, from the time he was a child, favored being a wolf. Even though I’ve used that form from time to time, part of me always enjoyed the form of an eagle a bit more. Soaring in the sky allowed me to gain a better perspective. Though, because of this damned illness... I cannot do it as much as I would like to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, letting this woman parade around as she likes was more out of consideration for my own limitations. As disgraceful as it is, I cannot foolishly disregard the toll this Endzeit is taking on me. The more agitated I become, the intensity of the symptoms follow suit. Due to this, I’ve passively gone about capturing this woman. It seems this was the proper method in the end. Her eyes catch me in the crowd and she demurely looks away as her horse trots up to the startling line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Up next, our reigning champion! Third-year, Itomori Mitsuna!” an announcer broadcasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd roars in applause and she waves. With bow in hand, she prepares an arrow and leans forward in anticipation. A bell rings and with a click, she and her horse fly down the track. Her eyes are focused and sharp, nocking the arrow and sending it right into the heart of the first target. Without missing a beat, she loads the second arrow and sends it. Surprised, I watch as the second and third targets are struck squirrely in the center with impeccable accuracy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A perfect score!” the announcer cheers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slows to a stop turning her horse around and walking around the track. The headmaster runs toward her just as she passes me and carefully drapes a white cloth over her shoulders. Microphone in hand, he speaks rapidly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful! Just wonderful! Another win for our Silver Genius, Itomori Mitsuna!” he bellows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd claps wildly as he hands her the microphone. She shoots me an apprehensive look and I watch intently as she begins a speech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone... Thank you all for coming. As you know, this festival will be my last here,” she starts as the Headmaster places a wreath of flowers on her lap. “Even if I am no good at expressing it, I’ve truly valued my time here with you all. I’m happy I can once again receive this honor and show you a side of myself that I keep hidden. Once again, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bows her head and everyone shouts congratulations at her. Even I feel compelled to clap along with them, though I resist. She dismounts the horse and hands the reins off to the headmaster. He lowers, whispering something in her ear that I cannot hear over the sound of cheering. She nods with a smile and walks in my direction. Placing the flower wreath on her head, she shoots me a questioning smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised you watched me,” she says, avoiding the number of hands reaching out towards her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I walk toward her, ushering her away from the crowd before they can touch her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I might see what you were so passionate about participating in,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods and follows my pace as we walk away from the field. Then, suddenly, she takes my hand in both of hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, the fireworks are going to start soon. Let’s watch it together,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, I cannot understand her fascinations with such things. Fireworks... She tugs on my hand, a feeling that I can’t quite place as pleasant or unpleasant. With a sigh, I allow her to do as she pleases and she leads me to a lonely hill overlooking the field. She sits and I sit with her, eager awaiting the end of this festival. Although all the noise has grown distant from this spot so I suppose this place isn’t so bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is so appealing about fireworks?” I ask her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well... they’re pretty,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that all?” I ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it need to be more complicated than that?” she asks in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I can answer, a sharp whistle resounds through the air and a flash of lights flurries in the sky. She gasps in awe as firework after firework is launched, blooming into a variety of shapes. Truth be told, I don’t really see the magnificence she does. Though, on a purely aesthetic level, I’ll agree with her. They are pretty. For humans who aren’t capable of any magic, something like this must be amazing to them. In the end, she is still just as simple-minded as others. Except in the ways that she is not. I watch her as she marvels at the display, the colors reflected in her eyes. She gasps again and again, clasping her hands together in wonder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Truly, she could have been a worse woman</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Without a word, I brush her hair away from her neck and sink my fangs into her skin. She makes a squeak, initially pulling away before melting into me. I drink her blood, allowing its heat to flood me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tonight, I will fully cleanse this woman.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She lifts her hand, placing it on my cheek. The sleeve of her kimono covers my face, likely her attempt to veil what I’m doing. Even this kind of action doesn't displease me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This woman, who once bothered me so much, has become a company that I don’t disapprove of. Why is that? Well, even if I am to wonder about it, there is no satisfying answer. There is no true fondness I can derive from her presence. She is merely a tool for me, as the King of the Founders, to use. That is all she will ever be. Only a tool...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pull my fangs from her and she pants heavily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong?” she asks with an innocent gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No... Nothing is wrong... </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can’t help but laugh, watching blood drip from my fang marks. Sweet, pure blood. This quality is unmistakable. She continues looking up at me with a wide-eyed gaze as fireworks continue to burst above our heads. I chuckle and lick her neck, making her cheeks grow red like her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally... The purification is complete,” I whisper to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look that overtakes her face is one that I can’t understand immediately. Her body is trembling, yet her face is calm. Because she doesn’t know what the end of the purification means, she may be afraid. Yet, for some reason, she smiles at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy,” she whispers back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, why is that?” I ask her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s silent for a moment before placing both her hands on my jaw. I lift my brow at her and she just glimmers at me, the warmth of her touch sinking into my skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m finally free of him,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Him? That vampire? Her true feelings toward that vampire continue to evade me. Her behavior would lead me to believe that she hates him. Though, I can’t say with absolute certainty that it’s true. It’s unthinkable that I might be bewitched by her. Surely, she isn’t such an impressive actress that she can fool me to this extent. Yet, as she draws closer, I dismiss the accusations in my head. It could be rationalized that I have to get close to this woman anyways. If I mean to have children with her, it’s better if she willing wants to spur on physical interactions with me. This affection is a weapon, but why do I waver thinking of who the target is? I truly... cannot understand this woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” she says and pulls her hands away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can retract completely, I cup her face in my hand. She looks at me with puzzled eyes and I press my lips to hers. She exhales, the tension in her body dissolving as she returns my kiss. Yes, if this is manipulation, then it can only serve to benefit me. If she means to seduce me, I can still obtain what I want. There is nothing she can do that will subdue me, but I will encourage her to try. Because in the end, all I need is her body. She’s welcome to believe there’s more to it than that. As long as she gives me a child, I don’t care what she does. If she even becomes foolish enough to fall in love with this facade, I won’t mind. In the end, I’m only doing what I set out to do. With her, I will ensure the future. I begin lowering her back against the ground, planting kisses up and down her neck. She bites at her nail, struggling to keep her voice from breaking out. It’s best... if she thinks she’s in love with me and that I am in love with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re quite admired here, did you know?” I whisper to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I?” she mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are... I don’t like so many eyes on what belongs to me. I don’t like thinking... that other men might fall for you,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blushes, brushing her thumb over my brow and sweeping my hair away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if they do... I’m only yours, Carla-san,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could laugh at this moment. Such words of devotion, it’s just as I wanted. She kisses me, resting her hands on my shoulders. And then, with a giggle, she pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yoshimura finally got the ventilation schematics I needed to put that order in. Is it okay if I go get them from the library?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The order... Right, she mentioned that on the day we met. There’s no point in doing something like that, but I will not wound her trust by refusing. If it’s only in the library, then I don’t doubt she’ll go there and come straight back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go quickly,” I tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, I’ll meet you back at the art station. Is that okay?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nod and allow her to stand up. She brushes off the grass and backs away from me with a red face. I watch as her figure retreats back into the school. From here, a new generation of Founders will be ushered in. Without a doubt... So why do I feel uneasy as she disappears from view? This all... seems a bit too easy. Is victory over this woman... so easily won?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wonder what Mitsuto is doing right now...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Lose Some</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mitsuna is confronted by her brother after all this time and finally admits what she's been scheming to Carla.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a little shorter than the previous one. After writing 3 chapters in one day, I'm going to take a little break. Hope you enjoy~! (Also, keep in mind how much of an unreliable narrator Mitsuna is. Just because she says something is one way, doesn't necessarily mean it is that way. It's all based on her perception, which is limited. Thank you~!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Intermingled with bruising kisses,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I felt my heart beat become distorted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The wickedness of such pure deception,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clouded my vision.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Mitsuna Monologue</b>
</p><p>
  <span>When I enter the school hallway, my lips are still tingling. I press my fingers to them, feeling as though sparks are bubbling beneath the skin. This whole night… has been exhausting. Acting so happy, acting as if I enjoyed Carla’s kiss. I’m tired of it already. But… this will be a successful coup. Everything I’ve done has brought me closer to a wonderful end. So I perk up and confidently head toward the library. I expected to have crossed paths with my brother already, but with Carla hovering around me, I doubt he could find an opening. I’m sure he was watching, however. I wonder what he might think of me. Is he frightened, seeing his enemy charmed by me? Yes, he should be. Everything I’ve done tonight is for the sole purpose of striking fear into him. What Carla believes about me is irrelevant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe I am mad. Maybe I’ve truly lost my mind. I don’t know, but I can’t be bothered to care. I walk into the library’s first floor, taking in the scent of thousands of books. The lights are on but it seems like no one is here besides me. Here, on this very floor, is the stage. In a mere few weeks, his blood will be spilled here. Yoshimura’s timing couldn’t have been better. Having the schematics prepared for me today, when Carla is in a good mood, allows me to put the final cog into this plan. Truth be told, I am happy the purification is complete. Because, in the midst of a dream, I heard Tomoyuki’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because he cleanses your blood, your sight is restored.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I should have caught on sooner. The reason why my eye returned to normal over the past few years was nothing random. By drinking my blood, Mitsuto was taking away what power I had. Dirtying my blood, taking away the gift I inherited. Carla’s purification had the side effect of returning that gift to me. Upon entering the library office, I touch my right eye with my finger and pull the contact lens away. Thankfully, the theater department had contacts that matched my eye color, allowing me to look a bit normal for once. But, there’s no need for it anymore. I remove the pins from my hair and let it fall freely to frame my face. I don’t care who sees my eye anymore. Not even a little bit. Because it is a sign that I’m an Itomori, I’ll wear it proudly. That’s what my father would have wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the librarian’s desk is an envelope with my name on it. I smile, picking it up and feeling its weight. This is just what I needed. With this, I can end everything. I open up my kimono, sliding the envelope down to my belly and securing it with the band of fabric around my waist. Then, once everything is refastened, I turn. In the time it takes me to turn around, the lights of the library go out at once. My right eye twitches, like it did with Richter, warning me. I sigh, walking out of the office and wandering out into the center of the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough with the theatrics, come out,” I call, my voice echoing throughout the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s no fun,” a voice whispers from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn, finally face to face with him. After all this time, we finally stand before one another. I wish I could say we were eye to eye but once we turned thirteen, he kept growing and I didn’t. In fact, he’s about as tall as Carla when I think about it. How funny… he seems smaller. I’m careful not to move too much, avoiding the sound of the envelope rustling. He looks down at me with narrow eyes before smirking and holding his arms out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No hug?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be a problem if his scent got on me now. If Carla knew he had been here, or much less found out his identity, it would ruin everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should go, Mitsuto. It’s not safe for you,” I tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cocks his head to the side, brushing his hair back with his hand with a light chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s after me?” he scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shake my head and sigh, making him put his hands on his hips. He leans down to my height, looking at me directly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your lipstick is all smudged, you know,” he tells me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m aware,” I say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorts, reaching out to wipe my mouth but I step back before contact is made. This can only end poorly the longer I stay here. I need to get out and get back to Carla.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me… I went through all this trouble to rescue you and you’re shacking up with that First Blood freak?” he asks, his voice unsteady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t have time to think of an answer before he flings one of the study carrolls across the library floor. I hear it crash into something and break behind me but I don’t take my eyes off of my brother. Even as his eyes grow cold and hollow, I won’t look away. Even if he’s making the same face he made that day, I won’t look away. I spent so much time being afraid of him, I won’t be that way anymore!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I do… no longer concerns you,” I tell him, planting my feet firmly on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I won’t be tormented anymore. I won’t let him control me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what Tetsuro told me is true then… You are screwing that guy,” he says bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tetsuro…? So I was right! He was spying on me! Gosh… I should have let Carla kill him if he was just going to report everything back to my brother like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was pretty broken up about it. He’s had a huge crush on you since we first got to this school. Seeing you off with that guy really broke his heart. To be honest, I didn’t believe it myself. My own sister… betraying me like this,” he sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What betrayal?” I blurt out. “I have no loyalty to you! You betrayed me, you betrayed our entire family and for what? Your own greed, your own obnoxious arrogance? You have no right to feel betrayed by me! Even if I am sleeping with your enemy, have you ever stopped to consider that I might be the one you should be afraid of?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mitsuto’s eyes widen and his jaw clenches. Is he hurt? Had he never really come to the realization that I might hate him? That every waking moment I spent sharing the same air as him was excruciating for me? Can he really dare to stand before me and act as if we had been working together as siblings all this time? I feel sick just looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… really don’t get it, do you? That eye is back to normal and yet you still can’t see… what’s right in front of you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand clasps around my neck, forcing me back into the debris he created. Something sharp pierces my back and I cry out, only for him to strangle me with more force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea why I’m doing this, do you? It’s because you’re foolish and near-sighted. You fixate on the unimportant things to such a degree that you’d let yourself be seduced by someone terrible like that. Can’t you understand… how I feel?!” he growls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My hands search around erratically, looking for something, anything, sharp enough to fend him off with. I kick at him, but nothing I do seems to work. He’s incredibly strong, grinning at me as if he enjoys this. No, he does enjoy it. Because he was weak, because he was insignificant, he resented me. This is his retribution. I won’t endure more than this. I wrap my hand around what feels like the leg of a desk and drive it towards him with all my might. The sound of flesh being torn open is revolting, but liberating. His hold on me lessens and blood trickles out of his mouth. I shake him free and lift myself off whatever had impaled me. That piece of wood is not enough to kill him, but it’s enough to keep him down until I can get away. I gather up the fabric of my kimono and run as fast as my legs will carry me. Darting out of the library, his words circle around in my head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone terrible like Carla…</span>
  </em>
  <span> What a joke. If anyone’s terrible, it’s him! Compared to him, Carla is an angel!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, no… Carla!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Surely, Mitsuto’s scent is all over me. Moreover, I’m bleeding. I can’t face him like this! Rather than going back outside to meet him, I dart up the stairs to the infirmary on the third floor. When I get inside, I slam the door shut and fling open the medicine cabinet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need… I need something to clean the wound… and bandages and I need to get Mitsuto’s scent off of me!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I feel relief at first, knowing it isn’t Mitsuto’s voice that I hear behind me. But I’m even more stressed because I do recognize that voice. When I look through the mirror at the sink, I see Carla at the door. Oh… This is a disaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm… We should stop meeting in this place,” he chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever happiness was on his face drains away as he approaches me. I can’t face him, be it fear or shame, I can’t move my body at all. He grunts in confusion, looking down at me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re hurt, what happened?” he asks in a forceful tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Should I lie…? He won’t believe that I just fell and got stabbed like this. I don’t even have the energy to lie. My head is spinning… How much blood am I losing right now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That smell… You…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m only partially aware of Carla spinning me around to face him. My consciousness is slipping as adrenaline drains away and I can’t even muster a response to his anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand. You deceived me. From the start, you tried to earn my sympathy through talking and acting receptive to me. Yet, it was all for the sake of meeting that vampire when my guard was down,” he growls, his hand closing around my neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Again… I hate this feeling. That day, when I tried to run, Mitsuto grabbed me like this. I hate it… I hate it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please… listen to me, I’ll explain,” I say with the breath that remains in my lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t listen to your lies anymore. You must have misunderstood what is happening here. We are not friends or lovers, you are simply prey! To think you were sly enough to get this far, I’m ashamed of myself,” he says, his voice full of vitriol.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This isn’t what I wanted…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please… just listen,” I gasp, trying to grasp his wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough, tell me who this vampire of yours is. Who are you daring to conceal from me? Did you feign this dislike for them to confuse me? Now that I think about it, that’s right. You’re protecting this vampire lover of yours,” he snarls.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vampire… lover…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re silent…? I guess that’s expected. You do know as soon as I find him, I will kill him. And then you,” he hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How… much has he misunderstood?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Without thinking, I begin to laugh. The loss of blood must have made me crazy. But who cares? If this is the end I’m facing, I don’t care. Should I just go ahead and reveal my true self to him? After all this time being quiet, can I truly speak from my heart? I laugh harder, even as his grip tightens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t understand anything!” I reel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must want to die,” Carla growls, digging his fingers into the wound in my back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even the pain makes me laugh harder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Should I show him my nature?</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>“Kill me if you want… For years, I’ve wanted to die. But, if anyone is going to kill that bastard, it’s going to be me. He is… </span><em><span>my</span></em> <em><span>brother</span></em><span> after all,” I tell him.</span></p><p>
  <span>And just like that, Carla releases my neck and allows me to breathe freely. This conversation is long from finished but as I collapse to the floor, I continue laughing until my ribs hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my secret! Didn’t I do well, hiding it for this long? You see, the truth is…” I pause to catch my breath and rise back up. “The vampire that’s been tormenting me for these past four years, who killed my entire family… is my very own twin brother!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carla looks at me, his eyes round and full of disgust. That’s right, I’m ugly aren’t I? At this point, I am a polluted and marred person. Hatred ruined me. The innocent girl I was, the happy girl I was, was killed four years ago. And I, standing where she once was, am nothing but the hideous monster that remains. So, I don’t care if Carla hates me. If he thinks of me as a revolting creature, I don’t care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, don’t look so surprised. You were always suspicious of me, weren’t you? Why was I so well-behaved, why did I act as if I was really being seduced by you? Surely, you don’t take me for that much a fool do you?” I ask, looking up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stunned silence is fascinating. I played this part well. Well, then, I’ll divulge everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I don’t know what you want from me?” I ask him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes narrow on me as I lean against the sink, trying to steady myself and regain my composure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To tell you the truth, I’ve known for a while. It wasn’t hard to see. When a species is on the brink of extinction, the natural course of action… is to procreate, no?” I ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he says nothing, his expression answers everything. It’s all just as I thought. I sigh and rub my temples, trying to soothe the migraine that bites at my senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see, I don’t care about myself in the slightest. My only purpose for living is to kill him. So I don’t really care what you do with me after that. If you want to have a hundred children using my body, I won’t stop you. Even if I can find some joy in it if it means my own line will live on… So, I’m begging you, Carla… understand me and don’t interfere…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to do it. It has to be me. If Carla kills Mitsuto, it’s no good.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I’ll do what you want.... So just let me kill him myself… please… I’ll give you everything you want…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The floor comes up to greet me far faster than I’m prepared for it. Carla says something but I can’t understand him. Am I dying? It feels that way… I’m not ready to die… Can’t Carla understand me? His entire family died as well, doesn’t he want revenge, too? Can’t he understand… how much I’ve lost already?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Perception</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the wake of her breakdown, Mitsuna finds herself on the receiving end of Carla's wrath. She can only speculate as to what the true source of his anger is.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There is a lot going on in the world right now... Before you read, please know that I stand with you and with all those that are in suffering right now. This chapter does have very strong rape/non-con themes so please do read at your own discretion.</p>
<p>Having seen the support I've gotten since deciding to end this story, I really wanted to give you all at least one more chapter. Thank you so much for liking my character and this little pocket world of an AU I made. Please, enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Crossing the line is forbidden,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I knew that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Once the facade disintegrated and the mask chipped away,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I imploded and destroyed the foundation of everything.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Upended, overturned, there is only shame remaining.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Mitsuna Monologue</b>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I… don’t want to wake up.</span>
  </em>
  <span> When my senses return, I think that I don’t want to wake up. I think I’ve made a terrible and irrevocable error. The moment my emotions and thoughts were unleashed, I ruined everything. Like a typhoon, I ripped away everything that I had built with such painstaking calculation. There was no reason, no order. In darkness, I can only think that I could have done better. I could have made my case. I could have kept everything inside. I should have fallen into his arms and begged for forgiveness. I should have acted like his pet. By now I know, I should have done better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After all this time, do I still lack foresight? Am I still too immature? I disregard the questions that batter my heavy eyelids. There is no point. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s dead by now.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mitsuto is dead, isn’t he? Carla found him, it wouldn’t have been hard to find him. I did everything shy of giving him a photo ID. Everything I worked so hard for, for years, I ruined just as fast. I suppose I’m no better than Mitsuto then. Acting on impulse, raging against the world when things become too difficult. What the hell did I think I knew? I… am not someone my father would be proud of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is no other choice but to wake up, I decide after some odd few minutes of trying to grasp my surroundings blindly. Because I am still alive, that means there is still something left to face. Perhaps Carla means to torture me. A slow and painful death for deceiving him, that’s the end for me isn’t it? For showing such an ugly side, I have to pay for it, don’t I? Isn’t that right? My tip of my finger circles around against the cold stone floor that I’m laying on. The more I move around, even without opening my eyes, I’m aware of my situation. Around my ankles and neck there are metal cuffs. Though my hands have been left free, my arms are bound tightly around my torso, restricting my mobility considerably. I’m like an animal, tied up neatly for an inevitable slaughter. Some unholy draft nips over my skin and for a moment, I worry I’m naked. Fortunately, judging from the texture, I’m still in my kimono though it has loosened significantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When I do open my eyes, the dim expanse of the dungeon is laid out before me. I’m behind bars, caged. There’s no running away, there’s no fighting back. I shift my hips around, expecting some kind of soreness or indication that Carla has decided to take what he wanted from me while I was unconscious. Though, the pain I imagine is absent entirely. There is only the sting of the wound on my back. I stop moving and rest my head against the cold floor. I can only wait. In silence, I wait like a strung-up pig. With every inhale, my nostrils burn and dust sticks to the back of my throat. If I think about the sensation, my tongue becomes like parchment. I don’t think I’ve ever been so thirsty before in my life. I’ve never been so bored in my life. Pervasive thoughts invade my mind and I wonder how hard I would have to hit my head on the ground to make this all end quickly. Best case, I do it properly and avoid Carla’s wrath. Worst case, I live without any agency and I’m used as an incubator for the rest of my life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really are the worst kind of woman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shin’s voice breaks the suffocating quiet and I lift my eyes, watching him enter the cell with a smug grin. I look away and he scoffs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you did exactly, but you really pissed my brother off… even to this point,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His foot taps the cuff on my neck and I feel the pressure increase slightly. But I don’t respond. He can bully me as he likes. I’ve had enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, even after all this, you still act so high-and-mighty… Do you even understand your place?!” he barks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clang of a chain resounds and suddenly, I’ve been rolled onto my belly. My head and feet are yanked upward, curving my back to an uncomfortable arch. Heat spreads out from my wound and I gasp, though the air seems to have abandoned me, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shin, that’s enough…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carla’s voice is like poison. It brings no relief even as Shin drops the chains and I can breathe once again. I can’t bear to look as Carla approaches me. Something sloshes around and a pair of footsteps retreats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you, then. Let me know if you’d like another set of hands, Brother,” Shin’s voice calls out as it travels farther away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I keep my eyes fixed to the ground, not even hazarding a cursory glance in Carla’s direction. He grunts and the tip of his shoe digs into my back. I bite my lip, holding back the cry of pain as his foot grinds into my wound. He stops suddenly and growls. I hear a slosh against before I’m suddenly soaking wet. Cold water shoots straight through my kimono and bites into my skin. I whimper, only whimper, and keep my head down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you so prideful that you won’t look at me properly?” Carla snarls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What can I say? What do I know? I spent so long thinking of the right thing to say… I’ve completely lost it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at me,” Carla growls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wedging his foot beneath my breast, he kicks me over onto my side. Through strands of my soaked hair, I see him finally. An empty wooden bucket sits at his side and he looks down at me with eyes like steel. He looks down at me as if he wants to slice me up nicely and then burn every bit beyond recognition. Pure, unadulterated hatred. He hates me… I knew he would. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you afraid of me now? Has that smitten act finally worn off?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes the chain above me in his hand, wrapping it skillfully around his wrist once. Immediately, the cuffs tighten and pull upward slightly. I squeeze my eyes shut, but how am I meant to keep it together? How can I endure this? What’s the point?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not afraid…” I speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ho? Are you that arrogant?” he sneers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No… I’m not afraid of dying…” I answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand that much about you. Though, don’t be so presumptuous as to think that I might kill you. I have no intention of doing so. Although… by the end of this, you may beg for death,” he tells me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What will it be then? I want to ask him, what are his plans? Peel back small lengths of skin until my body is raw? Rip out every one of my fingernails one by one? Is he… going to rape me? I shouldn’t be afraid of that… but I am. I truly, truly am. How selfish am I? I failed… I didn’t keep my promise, I didn’t go home. I failed everything. I should want to be punished, I should want to be tormented for it. That’s the kind of honor system I grew up with. That’s all I know. And yet, at the thought of being so thoroughly dominated and tainted, I want to cry. I want to run away. I don’t want to be hurt like that. Not like that… I can never come back from that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t intend to rape you, if that is the cause of your trembling,” Carla huffs, as if he’s the one being insulted by such a thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I peek up at him as he lowers his scarf and bares his face to me. His expression is cold, there is no deception in his tone. There is nothing sweet luring me to trust his words. Like this, looking at one another, for the first time we see each other. Our true selves. How frightening it is to have those walls come down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were right. My plan for you was to have you bear my offspring until the day the Founders could be successfully repopulated. Though, the mere thought of touching a woman like you brings such utter revulsion I want to vomit,” he states, wrapping the chain around his wrist another time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What is a woman like me? A liar? Fair enough, but I’m no different from Carla in that respect. We both used each other, we both lied. Is it because I’m human that it’s unacceptable? In that case, isn’t Carla the reproachable one? Holding himself so high above me that his sins can be ignored entirely? Isn’t that sickeningly hypocritical?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t apologize,” I begin, “for doing the same thing you did to me to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tugs at the chain with a firm grip, choking me before I can even take a breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and I are not the same. Do not insult me by suggesting we are equals in any regard,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pressure builds in my head, similar to the way a balloon expands right before bursting. Will my head do the same? What will be achieved then for Carla? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your only value to me is your heart. You grossly overestimated the value of your body. I just as easily cut your heart out and place it into another woman as I can take you right here,” he tells me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why are you wasting your time with me? My brother is already dead, isn’t he? You’ve already succeeded in taking everything from me. Why risk running out of time when you could just make some other woman hatch children for you?” I spit out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carla harshly pulls at the chain until I’ve been lifted off the ground entirely. My spine is nearly folded over itself and a warning crack reaches my ears. My toes are at the crown of my head and I can barely keep my eyes open let alone take a breath. I can’t help thinking… how pathetic this is. How laughable… that my end is in such a disgraceful way. But, then again, I’m right aren’t I? If it is so easy for Carla to make his goal a reality, then why risk losing time to his illness by torturing me? If I meant so little in the first place then logically, it should be no problem to kill me and move along. The only reason people take revenge at all… is if their pride has been hurt. If that’s true for Carla, then it stands to reason that I actually managed to succeed in capturing him even if it was only a little.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He releases the chain abruptly, sending me back to the ground with a rapid velocity. I crash against the floor onto my left arm and feel a terrible splintering from my wrist. The first breath that I can take is a scream. An excruciating numbness radiates from my hand and I know before I know: my wrist is broken. I bite the inside of my ragged cheek and try to keep from screaming again as Carla pushes me onto my back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even in this position, you still don’t change. What will I have to do, then… to teach you in an unforgettable way what your place is?” he sighs as he lowers himself over me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a rough and hasty touch, Carla removes the bindings around my arms and the cuff around my neck. And then, he hands toil away with the fabric of my kimono. I squirm and resist as best as I can, but I’m no match for his strength. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want this!” I cry out, trying desperately to fend him off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carla only snickers and forces me onto my stomach as he exposes my back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want this?” he mocks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop it! Don’t do this to me!” I yell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back in the infirmary, you told me you would give me everything. Was that also a lie of yours?” he asks, pressing my face against the ground and lifting my hips up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And just as he stops shy of meeting my hips with his, I ask myself what the point of this is. Why is he doing this? Why is he trying to frighten me in this way? Is it simply him toying with me for pleasure? No… Carla’s smarter than that. He wouldn’t do that if there was no tangible benefit for him. So I freeze and think of the reasoning for this. Could he have something to hold over me? Some kind of leverage to make me behave? What the hell could it be, then? Could it be… Mitsuto got away? I can’t imagine Carla let him go just because of my pleading. If Mitsuto were to escape before Carla could get to him, if Mitsuto were still alive… then he could be useful to Carla. Because then, he knows I would do anything to kill him. Mitsuto… has become Carla’s trump card? Is that a crazy speculation… or am I right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If I am right, and this is a bluff to catch me in a lie… if there’s a chance… I can’t falter again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would do anything… for the sake of my family. Even if it meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I would’ve done it… but if my brother is already dead…” I lead, hoping that Carla behaves in the way I think he will.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carla hums, his hand running up my spine. I shudder, but hold myself steady. Nursing my broken wrist, I stay in this degrading position as tears spring up from the corners of my eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said we can’t understand each other, that’s true… There is no trust that can be developed between us. In any circumstance, even if it means death, I will always choose my family. So I was alright… if I could have killed him myself, I would have left the rest to you,” I say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will he believe that? Is that even the truth? I ask myself and yet, I don’t know the answer. When I said those words in the infirmary, I was desperate. Even now, I suppose I am the same. Still pathetically optimistic… but then, is it okay? If I have to live on in this way, if it means I can still keep my promise… then is it okay? If everything that makes me who I am is dashed away, is that okay? If I give myself over to Carla, truthfully, is that okay? Or will I seek an end as soon as I obtain what I want? Carla must be weighing those two possibilities as he grips my waist firmly. He could have done it by now I’m sure… yet, he is hesitating. Why? Does he even know?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In that case, there should be no issue,” he says, gripping my hair in his fist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, please… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean…?” I ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carla turns me over and I quickly drape my right arm over my chest in an effort to preserve some dignity. Carla’s brow arches as he stares down at me and all I can do is stare back with pleading eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell me I have another chance… tell me he’s not dead… </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are a truly disturbing woman. Even without me saying it, it seems you know,” he sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... You didn’t kill him?” I ask in a voice just above a mumble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carla nods and takes my broken wrist in his hand. I purse my lips as pain shoots up my arm and he smirks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Make no mistake, I will not forgive you nor will I continue to indulge your whims. If you are to cross me again, I will break your mind and your body over and over until you wither away. However… I looked into your schemes,” he says, his voice trailing off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From his hand, the envelope that I had received from Yoshimura materializes along with my math notebook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You disguised your plans well enough that I didn’t notice it at first, even as you worked on it in front of me. All these diagrams and calculations at first glance seemed meaningless. But, with the contents of this envelope, your idea is clearly illustrated,” he says, thumbing through the pages of the notebook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What is he getting at?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I’ve decided to hold you at your word. You can enact this plan, you can obtain your revenge… and in return, once you’ve killed this vampire, I will take you to Banmaden and keep you in a place where you’ll never see the sun or moon again. You will only live to bear children. That will be your fate,” he tells me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I nearly gasp, so bewildered by his words. He drops the envelope and notebook beside me, yet I can’t take my eyes off of him. Is he serious? Why…? Why would he allow this? Even if he keeps me locked up forever and forces me to have children, he could do so without letting me kill Mitsuto. He could just take my heart out, couldn’t he? Why… is he doing this? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… don’t understand you,” I mutter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s only natural. We agree, we cannot understand one another. You are in no position to question me or object, unless you would rather go to Banmaden now,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! I won’t question you! Thank you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As my voice trails off, I see exactly what he’s doing. He is ensuring my loyalty. Even in this terrible position, he’s made me grateful to him. Even though he has intruded on my life, even though up until this moment he has hurt me numerous times, he’s managed to cast a hero-like light on himself. And it has worked… I thanked him, without even thinking about it. I… really don’t understand this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well… You see, even though you are a human, you’ve crafted a plan that I happen to think will work. However, you must know that your word alone is meaningless to me,” he leads.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifts my arm away from my chest, exposing my chest entirely. My entire body shivers and I can’t find a comfortable place to set my eyes. I feel so degraded, as if I’m being devoured purely by exposure. It’s terrible, it’s foul… But, if this is what it takes…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For my family’s sake… If it allows you to trust me, do what you must,” I say and shut my eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I don’t know what to expect other than pain. Yielding myself in this way, I can only anticipate feeling broken apart. But, in my mind, I call out to my ancestor and hope to hear his voice. For guidance, for reassurance. I want to be told I will be okay, that I will still be strong. I want to be told that my way of viewing this is okay. That I am justified in surrendering myself like this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tomoyuki… please tell me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My right eye twitches as Carla lowers himself over me. I can feel his breath against my face and it takes everything I have not to shrivel up. My eye twitches once more and an image flashes in my mind. Something I’ve imagined but never seen in such clear definition. I see my brother painted against my eyelid, on his knees before me. Bleeding, suffering, unable to breathe. I can see it clearly. And my shuddering stops. This is the path that is correct for me. With this, the only thing I’ve yearned for will come to me. I am doing the right thing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tomoyuki, thank you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I think. I try to drown everything out, to ignore the building tension. As seconds tick pass, I try to dissociate from this place. I want to go to sleep and wake up when this is over. But… it isn’t necessary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carla draws away from me with a groan and as my eyes open, I find him walking out of the cell. Without a word, he walks through the cage door and goes down the corridor. I hear the door to the dungeon open and shut. Just like that I am alone. What… was the point of that? Was he testing me? Or… was the reason for his groan related to his illness? Was he not feeling well? Is that why he left me here? I carefully cover myself, removing a swath of fabric to wrap my wrist with. I don’t have anything to make a splint so all I can do is try to keep the joint in place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t understand…” I mumble to myself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My eyes land on the envelope and my notebook lying before me. Is this really obtainable? Is the cost of it something I can follow through with? I… don’t know anymore. It’s useless to think, to wonder. All I can do is try to see this through. With my ankles still chained up, I stare out of the opened cage door. Somehow, it’s even worse than being locked inside entirely. But… the future is already guaranteed. I will kill Mitsuto, it’s already been foretold. But my future after that won’t be up to Carla or Tomoyuki… When I leave this cage, I will never let myself be put into another one. I’ve no need for a future at all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, what is next you may be wondering? I don't plan to stop creating for Diabolik Lovers. Not at all. And also... this isn't the end for Mitsuna and Carla either.</p>
<p>While I lost interest in telling their story independently, I had the idea to incorporate them into the new story I'm working on.  Please look forward to it! I can't wait to share it with you in the coming weeks.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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